The Third Law
by x-HotMess
Summary: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Nate/Mitchie/Shane
1. The Third Law

Isaac Newton's Third Law of Motion is simple.

_**Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.**_

* * *

Everything can change in a split second. Life is full of 'might have's and 'could have been's. In that moment where you could have done something, but never did, and you will never get the chance to again. You could have changed you entire life in that instant. Your destiny is never set. Everything can change in a split second.

Life is defined by choices. Some are easy, and some are difficult. Some make you want to tear you hair out and wish for the best, because you know that there's no way that either side in the particular choice you have to make will be pretty for anyone involved.

Sure, life would be simpler if all the hard choices could be made for us. But that would mean losing control. And I think that's what we like most about choice. The ability to control the consequences of the decisions we make. The knowledge of the power of free will.

But some things are out of our control, and that's what we hate. The consequences that we never foresaw. Accidents and coincidences. Things that are left to chance.

It's like flipping a coin. It could land on heads, and take you away from all the frustration and humiliation and complication. Or it could land on tails, and lead you down the path of confusion and self-destruction and wondering why the hell didn't it land on heads?

This is story about the choices I could have made, but didn't. The path I could have followed, but went in the other direction. And what would have happened if by chance, the tables turned. I had made a different choice and followed a different path.

Flip a coin. Choose a path. Because every action has an equal and opposite reaction. It's the simple physics of life.

* * *

"I'm going to Starbucks, anyone want anything?" I called out to the barely listening members of Connect 3 scattered across the tour bus.

"Darcy can just go and get some coffee if you want, Mitchie," Nate replied from his position on the couch, not looking up from his guitar.

Darcy was their frazzled personal assistant who looked like she was going to pass out every time one of us asked for a glass of water.

_**Action: Get the coffee myself, or let Darcy do it?**_

"Nah, it's okay. I need some fresh air anyway," I shrugged, gathering up my purse and taking their orders.

_**Reaction: A tray full of hot coffee that I was focusing all my attention on keeping steady.**_

Unfortunately, I'd chosen to wear flats today over my regular sturdy Converse sneakers, and I forgot how slippery the bus steps were. As soon as I stepped up to the final, slick stair, my foot slid out from underneath me. I caught myself from falling flat on my face, but all the concentration I had on the tray had evaporated, and I watched in horror as it began to topple forwards.

_**Action: Let the coffee fall, or instinctively try to catch it?**_

Without thinking, my hand shot out and grasped around the rim of a coffee cup that was already upside-down.

_**Reaction: Hot liquid gushing all over my hand, searing the webbing between my fingers as it streamed through them.**_

"Shit! Motherfuckingfucker! OW!" I screeched, dropping the nearly empty foam cup.

My outburst made Shane, Nate and Jason look up instantaneously, with equally confused expressions on their faces. Nate was the first one to piece together the spilled coffee and the pained look on my face, and sprang to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look o-fucking-kay?" I hissed, struggling to hold back my tears of agony.

Shane got up almost as quickly as Nate had and opened the refrigerator, pulling out an icepack. "Here, put this on it!"

I stumbled over to him and held out my burned fingers, but Nate grabbed it out of Shane's hand before he could touch it to my skin.

"No! You can't put ice straight on a burn! It'll tear all the skin off! What are you, an idiot?" Nate snarled, taking me lightly by the wrist and tugging it in the direction of the bathroom.

_**Action: Take the ice from a pitiful looking Shane, or let Nate sensibly run it under a cold tap?**_

Sighing, I gave Shane an apologetic look and let Nate lead me over to the basin in the bathroom of the tour bus.

"Do you want a regular plaster, or one with The Wiggles on it?" Jason called from behind me.

Despite myself, I let out a stifled laugh. "Wiggles for sure, Jase."

"This doesn't need a plaster, Jason, it needs gauze or something!" Nate scoffed as he held my hand under the faucet and turned on the cold water, while Shane and Jason hovered in the doorframe behind us in a mixture of indignation and concern.

"Guys, it's cool, I got it," I shook my head in amusement. They were treating me like I'd broken my leg or stabbed myself with a kitchen utensil.

The cool water that flowed over my hand was refreshing and the stinging between my fingers was becoming numb. I moved them about to observe the damage, and winced as pain shot through my hand once more. I reached across the basin to turn up the stream of water, but the metal knob snapped off in my uninjured hand. I had a fleeting moment of bewildered surprise before I was being knocked backwards into Nate by the fountain that erupted from the sink.

_**Reaction: Flooding the bathroom and half the tour bus.**_

It was like a domino effect. I fell on top of Nate, who fell on top of Shane, who fell on top of Jason. What had been only seconds before and group of dry, upright teenagers and turned into a soggy tangle of limbs and swear words on the floor.

"Turn it off!" shouted Shane's voice from somewhere in the vicinity of Nate's armpit.

Spluttering, I struggled to my feet and held out my arm to shield my face from the jet of water spurting at us, my sore hand momentarily forgotten. I looked desperately at the broken fixture, twisting and turning the screw that stuck out of the wall, but to no avail. Alongside me, the three boys were all trying to stop the torrent from soaking everything in its path. Eventually, Jason picked up a towel and threw it over the faucet, successfully directing most of the water spray down the drain.

I looked down at my drenched clothes in a state of delayed shock, before looking up at Nate, Jason, and Shane, where were exchanging the same disorientated glances. We remained in a stunned silence for a few more seconds, before simultaneously bursting into laughter. The ridiculousness of our situation was just too funny. What the hell kind of bus has an exploding basin?

Gathering up some dry clothes, we all piled out of the bus and into the parking lot we had stopped in to inform a horrified driver what had happened. We were instantly ushered into the nearest office building by Darcy and the rest of our management team, and the boys all went into the male toilets without any fuss. But as I stepped into the female toilets, I found all of the cubicles occupied, as well as a few flabbergasted women who were waiting, staring at me strangely. What was their problem? I was just some random girl they'd never seen before, sopping wet and waiting to use a cubicle to change in, what was the big deal?

_**Action: Wait here in embarrassment, or find somewhere else to get changed?**_

I waited uncomfortably under their intense stares for a few minutes, before deciding that I was being ridiculous. There had to be another place that was relatively secluded in this place where I could dry off.

I bustled out of the bathroom and looked down the hall. There was an inconspicuous looking broom closet just opposite where I was standing. Looking both ways to make sure no one could see me, I quietly slipped across the corridor and into the closet, dropping my clothes to the ground as I shut the door, before shimmying out of my damp jeans, crossing my arms over my stomach and pulling my wet t-shirt up and over my body, resulting in trapping my head between my shoulders and the damp fabric.

I was struggling with my shirt as I tried to wrestle it over my ears when I became distinctly aware that something was not right. It was too quiet, or not quiet enough. There was someone in there with me. Slowly lowering my t-shirt and peering over the hem, I locked eyes with a familiar boy who had a completely dumbstruck expression on his face.

_**Reaction: Being caught half-naked by the last person I expected to see in a broom closet, of all places.**_

* * *

_Well, waddya know? Physics is good for something after all; A brand new multi-chap fic! __**Review**__ plzthx, and we can bitch about useless science together :D  
__The Wiggles pwn, btw. _


	2. The Unfortunate Misunderstanding

_**Action: There was only one empty cubicle in the men's room.**_

"Shotgun!" Jason yelled and sprinted into the only available stall in the men's bathroom.

Nate exchanged a frustrated look with Shane, and sighed as he ran his fingers though his damp curls.

"Do you want to go next?" he offered.

"Nah, you can," Shane shrugged.

"Dude, it's okay, there's got to be somewhere else where I can change," Nate said after a short pause of surprise. Before Camp Rock, Shane would have probably even kicked Jason out so he could go first. It still shocked Nate a little that he was being so… normal.

"I really don't care," Shane looked at Nate as if he knew he was thinking, and was quite proud of himself.

"Shane, it's cool, you go," Nate insisted.

"You sure?" Shane raised an eyebrow and attempted to stare Nate down. Both boys stared forcefully at each other, neither wanting to be the first to give in.

"You go, really. I'll get changed in the broom closet next door. It's better than standing here freezing my butt off."

**_Reaction: One poor unfortunate soul being caught off guard as I walked in on him getting changed, and began undressing in front of his very eyes._**

* * *

**_Action: Two teenagers in various states of dress, in a closet. Together. In the dark. Did I mention they both barely had their clothes on?_**

"Shane!" I gasped, quickly pushing my wet shirt back down and desperately looking for something to cover the bare, lower half of my body.

"Well hi there!" he grinned, still looking slightly punch-drunk, not even bothering to avert his gaze from travelling up and down my naked legs.

"What are you doing here?" I spluttered, covering my underwear with my dry sweats.

"I could ask you the same thing," Shane smiled, taking a step towards me.

"Stop looking!" I screeched in embarrassment.

"Make me," he smirked, taking another predatory step towards me.

Instinctively, I took a step back, and stumbled over my jeans that were lying sodden on the floor. My back rammed into the door and I winced in pain.

A flash of concern passed over Shane's face. "Man, it is really not your lucky day today, is it?"

"Tell me about it," I grimaced, glancing down at my scalded hand.

When I looked back up, Shane was right in front of me, he too staring at my burn. I held back a small gasp as he picked it up in his cool hands, running his fingers across it tenderly. He bit his lip and looked up at me nervously. "Want me to kiss it better?"

I couldn't move. I couldn't say anything. When I opened my mouth, all that came out was a small squeak. He smirked that adorable smirk of his and brought the pink skin to his lips, soft and soothing in contrast to the stinging beneath them. Tensely, I reached out and rested my other hand on his shoulder, inching my fingers up into the hair behind the back of his ear. His smirk growing wider by the minute, he turned my hand over and kissed the inside of my wrist, and proceeding to trail up the underside of my arm. When he got to the crook of my elbow, I was at my breaking point. He looked up, we locked eyes and before I knew it I had grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head forward, colliding my mouth with his own.

Shane responded on impulse, pushing me back against the door and placing my arms around his neck. Then his hands lowered to my hips, his fingers toying with my still soggy t-shirt. I could feel him persistently smirking against my lips, and I chuckled, kissing him harder. That seemed to spur him on, as he suddenly grabbed my leg and hoisted it up around his waist, giving us better leverage as he cornered me against the door of the closet. I'd be lying if I said this was exactly how I pictured my first kiss with Shane. I was kind of expecting romanticism and fireworks and people cheering our names.

But who was I kidding? That kind of stuff doesn't happen. Call me a pessimist, but at least I'm realistic enough to acknowledge that there is no such thing as a happily ever after. All we have is the time together with the people we love, for as long as we love them. That may be a month, a year, or the rest of our lives, but what I do know is that if you don't make the best of your time with them, then you'll never really live. If you do, then you'll never have any regrets. And I think that's the closest thing humanity is ever going to get to a fairytale ending.

I was brought back to reality by Shane edging my wet shirt further and further up my body, and running his hands over the bare skin of my abdomen, making the pit of my stomach tingle. He trailed his fingers down my spine, and I shivered in pleasure. But eventually, we had to surface for air. We pulled away from each other reluctantly, panting, me still wearing my shell-shocked expression, and Shane still wearing that smirk that I wanted to smack off his face, and yet kiss it crazily all at the same time.

"Wow," Shane murmured, resting his forehead against mine.

"Maybe today is my lucky day," I grinned.

**_Reaction: Hot, sexy make out session which blossoms into a beautiful, loving relationship that every person dreams of._**

* * *

And that's what would have happened, if Shane had decided to go last. But as it turned out, Nate was the unfortunate guy in the closet that I had started de-clothing in front of.

"Nate!" I gasped, quickly pushing my wet shirt back down and desperately looking for something to cover the bare, lower half of my body.

"Sorry!" he blurted out, even though he had no reason to be, as he was staring up at the ceiling, at the mops and cleaning utensils around us, anywhere but directly at me.

"What are you doing here?" I spluttered, covering my underwear with my dry sweats.

"I just… there was nowhere else… and I was cold… I didn't think anyone else would come in…" he trailed off as his eyes lingered across the way the wet fabric clung to my body.

"Stop looking!" I screeched in embarrassment, and he spun around to face the opposite direction almost immediately.

"Sorry!" he squeaked again.

I took advantage of this by pulling on my sweats, which now had wet patches on them from being used as a shielding towel.

"Hey Nate?" I said.

"Yeah?" he mumbled, still not turning around.

"I'm changing shirts now, kay? I'm gonna need you to stay facing that way for a few more seconds," I was glad he couldn't see my face at that moment, because it was turning bright pink.

"Can do," came his awkward reply.

I considered asking him to leave, but that would just put him at an even closer proximity to me and my semi-nakedness as he tried to get out the door, and besides, I didn't think he was fully clothed either. I could make out that he was in bare feet, and that his belt was dangling from one of his tightly clenched fists that hung by his side. I just sighed loudly and pulled my wet shirt over my head, dropping it to the ground and pulling a dry tee back on, not even bothering to change out of my damp bra. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.

"Okay, done!" I gushed, pulling my hair up into a messy bun. "I'm leaving now!"

"Me too!" Nate yelped.

I could feel the heat from his body as he came up behind me while I was battling with the door knob. My hands were still cold, my burnt one especially sore, and they kept slipping off the metal handle. After a few more feeble attempts, Nate sighed loudly, and I unconsciously held my breath as he reached around my shivering form.

"Here," he murmured kindly, encasing my hand in his and pushing down. The door swung open with ease.

I turned my head to thank him, but froze when I realised how close he actually was. I opened my mouth and closed it again, and he just smiled awkwardly, and did a little bow. "After you, m'lady."

I just nodded meekly and stumbled out of the closet, Nate close behind me. Once I could see him in the light, I noticed that the colour of his face was probably not too different to my own. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked positively mortified. He avoided my gaze and he pulled his shoes on, and I wrapped my arms around my body shyly, suddenly feeling more naked than ever.

"What were you guys doing in there?" a familiar voice piped up from across the hall. Jason was standing there, looking in between Nate and me in confusion.

"Nothing!" we exclaimed together, before exchanging embarrassed glances.

"I forgot dry underwear," I lied easily, subtly balling up my in fact very dry underwear in my wet clothes.

"And I was, um," Nate began, and then paused, obviously not having thought his excuse through. "I… I was in there before Mitchie even started changing clothes!"

"Ew, Nate, you watched Mitchie getting changed?" Jason wrinkled his nose in disapproval.

"No!' Nate gasped, his face turning redder than I had even thought possible. "She was the one who walked in on me!"

"Oh, excuse me for not noticing the big sign that says 'DO NOT ENTER – POPSTAR UNDRESSING!'" I retorted.

"What sign?" Jason looked around bewilderedly, but we ignored him.

"You could have knocked!" Nate glared at me.

"What, so all the brooms would know I was coming?" I glared right back.

We were locked in a death stare for a few more seconds, before we were interrupted by Shane appearing out of the men's room.

"Uh, guys? What's going on?" he spoke slowly, looking between Nate and myself, and Jason, who was still looking for my imaginary sign.

Nate and I hurriedly broke our eye contact to look at him. "Um…"

"Nate and Mitchie were in the broom closet together," Jason answered for us.

"What?" Shane looked confused and slightly hurt.

"No! Jason! We weren't… it wasn't like that!" I hissed at him.

"Then what was it like?" Shane's brow furrowed, and it seemed as if he was struggling not to pout.

"It was an unfortunate misunderstanding," Nate nodded, sending me a look that urged me to do the same.

"Very unfortunate," I agreed. "We both just happened to get changed in there."

From the look on Shane's face, I could tell that this was not reassuring information. Luckily, Nate jumped to my defence.

"I was nearly finished when she barged in, but she didn't notice me at first, and I didn't look at her the entire time, I swear!" he blurted out. "That would be so gross!"

Shane appeared satisfied with his answer, albeit rather jealously, but I couldn't help feeling slightly insulted. What did Nate think would be 'gross' about me taking my clothes off? It's not as if I'm some hideously deformed wolf-girl. I'm actually very comfortable with my body, confident in my own skin, practically oozing self-esteem. What kind of red-blooded male doesn't find that attractive? Needless to say, Nate's revulsion was a harder blow to my ego than I would have expected.

I gave him a sideways glance which went unnoticed by Shane as we went and got back on the tour bus, but he caught my eye for a fraction of a second before hurriedly looking away. I frowned deeper. Was I honestly that bad to look at? The frown remained etched on my features as we all resumed our previous activities in the now relatively dry bus, and we took off for our next stop.

Suddenly, my selfish insecurity took over and I wanted the next thing for Nate to think when he looked at me to be the complete opposite of 'gross'. So I flicked my hair, I pushed out my chest, I made every subtle flirtatious movement I could to get his attention, and yet he remained as unresponsive as a stone as he sat on the sofa and read a book. Which just reminded me that what I was doing was petty and childish, and I felt ridiculous.

God, why was I even obsessing over this? It's not even as if I wanted Nate to think of me in that context.

Or did I?

No! No, no, no. I liked Shane, remember? Cute, funny, deeply emotionally connected _Shane_.

Then why couldn't I get Nate out of my head? I stared at him stonily for a few moments, as if that would answer the question for me. I just wanted him to look at me, so I would know that he was thinking about me like I was thinking about him. Come on, just one look. Let me know that this was weirding you out too. Tell me I'm not alone on that.

Nothing. He just flicked over the page of his book and continued reading.

I sighed, and moved my attention back to the notebook in my lap, which meant I missed seeing Nate look up and stare at me for a few moments, as if it would answer some sort of question.

**_Reaction: Awkwardness between two friends, both consumed with strange emotions they never would have thought they'd be feeling for the other._**

* * *

_Sorry it's taken me forever to update, I've been busy writing other stuff and living my life, which is totally awesome right now :) Please **Review** – am I confusing you with les duex arguments?_


	3. The Waffle House

_**Action: Nate avoiding me like the plague.**_

For the next two days, whenever I managed to catch Nate's attention, he would always purposefully look away and immerse himself in doing something completely different. He was avoiding being close to me or alone with me at all costs, and his awkward behaviour was making me feel awkward too. And I hate feeling awkward, but I figured he would sort himself out sooner or later.

But he was becoming increasingly difficult to be around. Late one night after we had stopped for a toilet break, as I was texting Caitlyn getting on the bus and he was absorbed in his iPod getting off, we walked right into each other. He stared at me bewilderedly for a few moments, before clearing his throat.

"Excuse me please, Mitchie," he mumbled politely, and I furrowed my eyebrows. Since when did he talk to me like I was nothing but a stranger to him?

But the way he said my name made all the hairs on my arms stand on end. I gaped down at them, before looking back up, but he had already edged around me and walked away. I sat on the edge of the sofa and looked down and my bumpy arms, rubbing them to try and make the goosepimples go away.

Wait a second; Nate said my name on a daily basis. What the heck made it so different this time? Had he made other girls feel this way when he said their name? All of a sudden, I inexplicably and selfishly wished that he hadn't, that it was only me. But there must have been plenty other names he had said in that soft, tender voice that sent a chill down my spine.

What's in a name, anyway? A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, and all that, but what about _my_ name? What made _Mitchie_ so special? I wondered if Nate saying my name still would have had such an effect if I was called something different. I was mulling this over absent-mindedly when suddenly there was a thumb and finger clicking two inches from my nose while someone was yelling '_Earth to Mitchie Torres! Come in, Mitchie?_' at me. I glanced up, startled, to find Shane staring at me in amusement.

"Hey, sorry, I totally spaced," I greeted him as he flopped down on the couch next to me.

"No probs, watcha doin'?" he grinned at me.

"Thinking," I shrugged.

"'Bout what?"

"Stuff."

"You have to give me more to go on than 'stuff', Mitchie. I'm not a mind reader," Shane rolled his eyes.

"Just… you know. Thinking about what my life would if I had another name," I shrugged, picking at my cuticles.

"Huh?" he raised his eyebrows.

"What if my parents had decided Mitchie was a stupid name? I could have been called, like, Nadia or Isabelle or… Frangipani," I grasped at straws.

Shane snorted, but he cut off when I glared at him for interrupting.

"Like, maybe if I was a Nadia, I would have dyed my hair blonde and become one of the popular crowd and had an unhealthy obsession with a fictional vampire dreamboat. If I was an Isabelle, I would have been one of those weird kids who hang around in Borders and thinks they're so much more intelligent than everyone else because they listen to Bob Dylan and write meaningless poetry and read dumb books filled with pretentious garbage."

"And Frangipani?" Shane looked at me in amusement. "What would she have been like?"

"Dear old Franny would be out on one of those Greenpeace boats screaming at Japanese whalers," I tried to look stern, but the twinkle in Shane's eyes made it practically impossible. "I'm serious! Think about it, Shane! With a different name, I could have been a completely different person!"

"Or you could have been exactly the same," Shane smiled at me reassuringly and I suddenly felt quite silly.

"I know. It's just weird to wonder about, you know?" I blushed, avoiding his gaze.

"I get it. Do you know my parents almost called me Joseph?" he chuckled.

I looked at him down my nose, raising an eyebrow, pondering the possibility. "Nope. I don't see it. You don't look like a Joe."

"Well, you don't look like a Frangipani, either."

"Good to know," I grinned as he reached across and took my good hand in his, interlinking his fingers with mine and stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

Shane and I knew that we liked each other, as did everyone else within a 100 meter radius, but we'd never actually gotten as far as developing any sort of physical relationship. I think we were both terrified what would that would turn us into. We'd be the next sappy, love struck, Troy-and-Gabriella couple, and that would take us way too far out of our comfort zones. No, we were just fine at being 'those two kids who have it so bad for each other but would never admit it in a million years' that everybody seems know.

It was better that way. Trust me. We were both way too busy to commit to a real relationship, and we could be best friends and not have to worry about hurting each other. And if we were really meant to be together, then it would figure itself out. Things like this always do. Love finds a way. I couldn't imagine my life without Shane, so it's not as if I had to worry about the little time we had together. Yeah, life is short, but it's also a heck of a long time. You've just got to have faith that somewhere in the bigger scheme of things, everything happens for a reason.

Shane and I were still waiting for our reason.

"Hey, Shane, have you seen the- oh, my bad," Nate stopped mid sentence as he stepped back onto the bus, realising he'd just interrupted a moment, and I don't know why, but when I saw his face, I hesitantly detangled my fingers from Shane's and stood up, overcome with a strong need to got away from both of them as soon as possible.

But as I tried to make my subtle and unsubstantiated escape, I was nearly bowled over by Jason as he shot past me to press his nose up against the window of the bus.

"Look, a waffle house!' he screeched. "Stop the bus!"

"We're stopped, Jase," Shane patted him on the shoulder. "We've been stopped for about ten minutes now. Did you need to use the toilet?"

"No! But why didn't anyone tell me there were waffles?" Jason exclaimed, staring at us like it was the ultimate betrayal.

"Forget it, Jason, if you don't need to use the crapper then we're out of here," Nate snapped. "We're already behind schedule."

Shane and I exchanged confused glances at Nate's nasty tone, and Jason looked like he'd been slapped in the face. "But…"

"No buts! You can have waffles another time! Let's just go!" Nate huffed, before storming over to his bunk, rolling in and wrenching the curtains shut.

The remaining three of us were stunned into silence. Poor Jason looked absolutely devastated.

"He's probably just really tired," Shane shrugged, trying to think of any possible excuse for Nate's crankiness.

"Yeah," I echoed uncertainly. "We'll get you waffles for breakfast, okay Jason?"

"Fine," Jason pouted.

Nate didn't emerge for the rest of the trip, but by the time we arrived at our next stop, he was just as chipper as ever. And boys think _we_ are moody? Go figure.

_**Reaction: An in-depth thought about the importance of names, Nate suffering from PMS, and no waffles.**_

* * *

For the next two days, whenever I managed to catch Nate's attention, he would always purposefully look away and immerse himself in doing something completely different. He was avoiding being close to me or alone with me at all costs, and his awkward behaviour was making me feel awkward too. And I hate feeling awkward, so I needed to confront him about it sooner or later.

So after the fifty-billionth time Nate had dodged me on the tour bus, as I was texting Caitlyn getting on the bus and he was absorbed in his iPod getting off, and we walked right into each other, I reached out and grabbed his arm, frowning a little in confusion when I felt him tense under my touch.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" I murmured through gritted teeth.

"Uh, sure," Nate glanced desperately towards the exit, and I thought for a split second he was going to make a run for it.

But the tense moment deflated and he sat down next to me as I led him over to the sofa. Jason was up the back on the phone, and Shane was sleeping in his bunk, so it was just the two of us.

"Look," I said bluntly. "Stop ignoring me. I don't like being made to feel like I've done something wrong when I haven't."

"No, Mitchie, that's not it," Nate shook his head.

"Then what is it?" I pulled a face.

His face contorted as he struggled to find the right words. "Just… the other day, in the closet… I've never been in a situation like that before, and-"

"Say no more," I held up my hand to stop his babbling. "Look, it's fine, really. Do you want to just pretend like it never even happened?"

"Absolutely," Nate sighed in relief. "Because I honestly don't know how much longer I could have gone talking to Shane and Jason about hair products. I miss your intelligent conversation!"

I giggled and flipped my hair back sarcastically. "Well, I am pretty intellectual," I joked.

"Enough to get your butt kicked at Guitar Hero?" Nate offered, pointing towards the bus's game system.

"I think not," I scoffed, snatching up a guitar console. "I'm far too smartical to be defeated by an inferior such as yourself!"

"Bring it on," Nate mockingly glared at me, throwing the strap of the other guitar over his shoulder.

He sat down next to me and stretched out his legs, and not two seconds later, Jason came barrelling down the hall and tripped right over them, landing flat on his face. Nate yelped in pain, but I was more concerned with Jason, who wouldn't have surprised me if he had knocked some teeth out. But it was like he barely even noticed. He got right back up again, and pressed his nose up against the bus window.

"Look, a waffle house!' he screeched. "Stop the bus!"

"Jason!" Nate groaned, rolling his eyes. "We've been stopped for ages. It's a toilet break."

"But why didn't anyone tell me there were waffles?" Jason exclaimed, staring at us like it was the ultimate betrayal.

"Um…" I glanced at Nate, completely at a loss. He just shrugged at me with a bemused look on his face, before looking back at Jason.

"I didn't know you wanted any?" Nate replied, more as a question than an answer.

"Are you serious? When does anyone not want waffles?" Jason shook his head at Nate like he was a silly schoolboy.

"I guess you're right," Nate grinned. "You up for some waffles, Mitch?"

I couldn't resist that glint of eagerness in his eye, and I nodded enthusiastically. "Sure, why not?"

"Shane! We're getting waffles!' Jason shouted so loudly that Nate and I had to cover our ears.

A muffled "G'way, sleeping!" was all the response we got.

"He's right there, you could have just asked him normally,' Nate grumbled as we got off the bus and swung open the door of the waffle house.

"Yeah, I could have," Jason pondered, but from the look on his face I can tell he wouldn't have done anything differently. "But I didn't."

I opened my mouth to make some kind of witty joke, but I bumped into a small girl as she abruptly turned away from the counter. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!"

"S'fine," she mumbled, before looking up at me. Suddenly, her eyes bugged out of her head and when she looked over at Nate and Jason, her jaw dropped so far I swear it had been unhinged.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! You're from Connect 3!" she shrieked, looking between Nate, Jason and myself. "OHMYGOD! You're Mitchie Torres!"

"Um, I guess?" I shrugged, looking to Nate and Jason for some sort of explanation. They just smiled like they'd seen it all before. Probably because they had.

"OMC3, I am like you guys's BIGGEST fan. My name is Kelly, and I have posters of you all over my room, and I've bought every one of your CDs, and been to all of your concerts in the area, you did such a good job opening for them, Mitchie, and I have your sheet set, and your dolls, I even run a website about you guys! Ohmygod, this is like, the absolute bestest moment ever. I've wanted to meet you for like my whole entire life!" she finally finished, panting, and I was left to try and figure out how she managed to say all that in one breath.

"Right. How old are you?" Jason asked bewilderedly, apparently as spooked by Kelly's never-ending rant as I was.

"Twelve!" she beamed.

"Jesus effing Christ, pre-pubescent girls are lunatics!" I muttered under my breath at Nate. He laughed and leaned over to reply.

"I reckon! Run along home little girl, isn't it past your bedtime?" he hissed in my ear.

"Ohmygod, is she your girlfriend? Are you dating? That was a totally romantic whisper right there!" Kelly's eyes sparkled as she glanced excitedly between Nate and I.

"What?" we all exclaimed simultaneously. "No, we're not… it's not… we don't…"

"Mitchie is Shane's girlfriend!" Jason stated merrily behind us.

"OHMYGOD, really?" Kelly squealed.

"No!" I shouted, purposefully ignoring Nate's grimace. "No, Jason, Shane and I aren't dating!"

"Yet!" Jason interjected. "You should, though."

"Shut up, Jason," Nate frowned, glancing at Kelly, who looked like she was about to either burst into tears or wet herself, or both.

We signed a napkin and her camera, took a photo with her, and I swear she lost consciousness for a few seconds when Jason included her in a group hug.

"Are your fans always so…?" I trailed off, trying to think of a word to describe Kelly after she had left.

"Enthusiastic?" Jason grinned. "Pretty much."

"And are you always so nice to them?" I was amazed at how polite the two guys were to this girl who kept piercing their ears with squeals every five seconds.

"Only the pretty ones," Nate winked. "Why do you think I'm so nice to you?"

He thinks I'm pretty. He thinks _I'm_ pretty. He thinks I'm _pretty_. I couldn't stop rapturously repeating the same sentence over and over again in my head. Then I had to remind myself that I shouldn't care whether Nate thinks I'm pretty or not. I couldn't think of anything clever to say in reply, so I just nudged him playfully in the side, grinning as he stepped up to the counter to order.

_**Reaction: A reunited friendship, an overzealous fan encounter, and waffles. **_

* * *

_Hooray, I actually finished something I started! I have lots of stuff in the works atm, and I'm inspired for something different every ten seconds. It's crazy! But I think that more reviews would probably motivate me to update this more often. I'm actually serious, I'm not just fishing for reviews. Well, I am, I'd like lots of reviews, who wouldn't? But it's a fact that the more people I know who are actually following this story the more I'll want to update. So __**review**__ if you likey, yeah?_


	4. The Photo Shoot

_**Action: My first photo shoot going horribly wrong in every possible way .**_

"Okay, guys, it's time to work your magic!" Darcy smiled at us widely, but I could see the vein in her temple throbbing.

"Is it just me, or is Darcy more freaked than usual?" I whispered to Shane as we entered the warehouse.

"It's definitely not just you," Shane murmured, sending her an apprehensive sideways glance.

"Why do we have to do this stupid photo shoot anyway?" Jason grumbled beside us. "We have enough photos of ourselves to last a lifetime."

"It's for a Pop Informer magazine spread, Jason," Nate sighed, appearing beside me suddenly. "They're doing a piece on the Fall tour with Mitchie."

"And they couldn't use the billions of other pictures they've already taken of us?" rebutted Shane whole-heartedly.

"How many of those pictures had Mitchie in them, Shane?" Nate asked him patronizingly.

"Oh," Shane frowned, stopping in his tracks to try and think of a comeback.

Jason, who instead of paying attention had set his sights on the frozen yogurt at the snack table, collided into the back of him. Shane's right foot shot forward to balance himself, and kicked me in the back of the knee. I fell forward so quickly that I couldn't do anything but squeeze my eyes tightly and hope that it wouldn't hurt too much when I hit the floor.

But the floor didn't hurt at all. Much to the contrary. It was soft and warm and smelt vaguely of chocolate. In fact, the floor was even giving me the impression that I was still upright. I slowly opened one eye to find that I was, in fact, still standing, albeit at an awkward angle, with my upper body completely encased by a boy in a green sweater. Nate had somehow managed to catch me on my descent, and now I was leaning on his chest, with his arms crisscrossed over my back and his hands grasping my shoulders firmly. I tilted my head up to find him staring down at me in concern, but once he realised I was perfectly alright, minus the total humiliation of nearly stacking it in front of about 50 people, he relaxed.

"You're not so great at this walking with coordination thing, are you?" he grinned down at me.

"Uh-uh," I mumbled, my face flushing, and not just from embarrassment. Nate still hadn't let me go.

Shane coughed awkwardly and suddenly we had both snapped up, Nate's arms releasing me and I immediately missed their warmth and security. I straightened my clothes up and tried to look as composed as possible, pretending like things like that was a completely normal everyday occurrence for me.

"So, do we have a theme for this shoot, or what?" I burbled, avoiding any chance of conversation about what just happened.

"Uh…" Shane looked between Nate and me in a daze, before shaking his head. "I actually have no idea."

"Hey, I think I see some gold pants!' Jason exclaimed excitedly, dashing over the rack labelled 'Jason'.

"Oh, wow, look, they have a massive box of Ray Bans!" Shane shared Jason's enthusiasm, picking up a bright yellow pair and sliding them onto his face.

Nate smiled at me, nodded over to the 'Mitchie' clothes rack, before winking and turning to look at the clothes he'd soon be wearing. I sighed, partly from the frustration of Nate making my heart beat a little faster and my palms to sweat (it should be _Shane_ doing that, damn it), and partly from some other emotion that I don't know how to explain. I gave up on trying to analyse it and began to sort though the different short, skirts and pants that were picked out for me. Nothing seemed to really pop out. In fact, half of the clothes looked like they were pulled out of a JC Penney's catalogue from 1994. The other half looked like they could be used to dress a six year old.

'_What the in the hell is this?'_ I thought to myself as I looked at a particularly disgusting pink ensemble.

"What in the hell is that?" Shane blurted out from behind me.

"I don't know," I answered, wrinkling my nose.

"It's velour," Nate noted sensibly.

"It's _hideous!_" Shane hissed.

"Thank you, Captain Duh," I snapped. "They don't seriously expect me to wear this, do they?"

"I think you'll find they do," replied a snooty voice from behind me.

A tall girl with fake nails, fake hair extensions, and most likely fake boobs was staring at me. "She hasn't even been on the tween scene that long, and yet Mitchie Torres is already a diva? Tut tut, that's not the best headline to start your career, is it?" the girl smiled sickeningly sweet, exposing her fake white teeth.

My jaw dropped, and it took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts and form them into words. "I'm not being a diva at all! These clothes just… don't suit my personality!"

"You're fifteen, you don't have a personality yet," she tossed her hair irritably. "Just try on some clothes and then see how you feel. I'm sure we'll find a suitable arrangement."

She turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving me clutching the pink velour absolutely speechless. I had a niggling feeling that I'd just been somehow threatened.

"Some of this stuff isn't so bad," Jason tried to keep his voice perky, but the look on his face when he pulled out a ripped mesh shirt said the complete opposite.

"Is this what it's always like?" I turned to Shane worriedly.

"No, actually," his brow furrowed. "We usually pick our own clothes, then get make-up done before putting them on and spending a few hours under the lights."

"Should I go and find Darcy?" I bit my lip, looking at the uninviting rack. "I really don't want to wear those."

"I think you'll be okay," Nate jerked up the corner of his mouth and I knew he didn't really believe his own words.

"Mitchie, darling, over here!" called another fake girl with very dark eyeliner and very blonde hair. "I'm Kendra, your Pop Informer stylist!"

"Here we go," I grimaced at the guys, before turning and making my way over to her.

"We're thinking about doing a different angle for this shoot," Kendra gushed. "Our new photographer is amazing. He's a real visionary."

"I'm sure," I smiled through gritted teeth as I was forced into a chair and made to sit still for an hour while my face and hair were prodded and pulled. Once I was finished, the make-up artist stepped back and I got to see myself for the first time.

"Oh, Mitchie, you look super-cute!" Kendra squealed, making her way back over from an uncomfortable looking Connect Three.

She was either blind, or a really good liar. I looked like a clown prostitute who had fallen asleep in a tanning bed and then been attacked with Homer Simpson's make-up shotgun.

"Sure," I agreed quickly, not wanting to incur the wrath of this super-primped, overzealous stylist. I mean, it was her job to know what looked good, right?

"Now, I understand from Melody that you had a problem with wardrobe?" Kendra pulled me over to the rack full of disgusting clothes that I would be more than happy to douse in lighter fluid and throw a firecracker at.

"They're not very _me_," I shrugged.

"Oh, darling, you've only just beginning to discover yourself," Kendra sighed exaggeratedly. "You might find you actually like the direction we're taking."

"I doubt it," I muttered under my breath, but she obviously heard me.

"Never say never!" she exclaimed in a much harder tone, pushing a collection of garments into my arms. "Put these on and let's get this over with."

I struggled to pull the tight dress over my head, and the belt that went with it looked plastic and trashy. I zipped up the buckled boots that Kendra had given me, but they were a few sizes too big. Great, just what I needed, something to add to my already indubitable clumsiness. I tottered out from behind the sheet I was changing behind and over to Connect Three, who seemed to be quietly arguing amongst themselves. I tried to no avail to pull the scant dress further up my chest, before drawing attention to myself.

"Hey guys, what do you think?" I greeted them cheerily, a stark contrast to what I was actually feeling.

Their reactions were all the same. Their eyes widened and I could practically hear the gasp dying in their throats. I was either having a really good effect, or a really bad one.

"Wow, Mitchie, you look…" Shane trailed off as he gave me a glancing once over.

"Alluring?" I prompted hopefully.

"Like a whore," Jason finished off, tactful as ever.

Nate smacked him on the back of the head as I turned to the full length mirror, horrified. "He's right!" I wailed.

"Oh, Mitchie, good, you're done," Kendra popped up out of nowhere. "See, I knew you'd come around to this look."

"I'm not really…" I started uncertainly, but a middle aged man with a peach fuzz moustache and oversized glasses, who was scrutinizing me from behind Kendra cut me off.

"I'm Mr. Byron, I'll be your photographer today," he introduced himself haughtily. "But you can call me Byron."

"Okay, cool, by your last name it is," I nodded eagerly, trying to make a good impression.

"No, by my first name. Byron," Byron stared at me like I was missing a few vital brain functions.

"Your name is Byron… Byron?" I asked weakly.

"Correct," Byron Byron nodded, spinning to face the opposite way with a flourish. "And this is my vision!"

He strode forward purposefully, with me following, and for the first time I saw the set I'd be photographed on. It was a massive chaise longue scattered in black roses with a darkly lit backdrop. The moment I saw it my stomach dropped and I knew there was no way this would end well.

"You're a lonely girl with a dark past," Byron Byron strutted around the set dramatically, wildly gesticulating. "And you only want a little bit of the comfort of love that you've so desperately been craving your whole life. I want you to sell me your anguish. Show me your broken soul!"

"Um, the thing is, I don't really have a broken soul," I was trying to get out of this stupid idea in the nicest way possible.

"Oh, you will," Byron Byron reached out and brushed a sticky strand of hair away from my face, sending chills down my spine, and not in a good way. "This is the sort of artistic angle that will sell a whole lot of records, gorgeous. Your label's already approved my idea; they want your image to be a sort of sultry, miserable look."

"But, um, I d-don't think th-" I stuttered nervously. For a weedy looking guy, Byron Byron was extremely intimidating.

"Look, you're not here to think. You're here to do. So _do_ as I tell you, and get your pretty little ass on that futon before I change my mind and send your record deal down the drain," he snarled in a low voice, lowering his mouth to my ear to make sure no one heard him but me.

I remained silent. Smirking in self-satisfaction, he snapped his fingers and two assistants appeared at his side instantly, one of them dabbing at the sweat on his forehead, the other passing him a bottle of over-priced mineral water.

"What did he say to you?" Shane snapped as he came up behind me, followed by Nate. Jason was stuffing his face with frozen yogurt at the snack table.

"What do you mean?" I stated emotionlessly.

"You know exactly what I mean. One minute he's all 'artistic vision' and then next he's touching your hair and whispering sweet nothings and you turn white as a sheet," If looks could kill, the one Shane was sending Byron Byron would have him sliced and diced into a million little pieces.

"It's nothing," I shrugged it off. "He wants me to be some sexy emo poser for this shoot. The label loves it, apparently."

"But you're not a sexy emo," Shane scowled. "This sucks. They've really gone too far this time. It's one thing to fuck around with our music, but portraying you as something you're not?"

"Guys, it's not a big deal," I tried to turn what Byron Byron had said into my own words. "This will help get my music out there. Sex really does sell, you know?"

"You're only fifteen, Mitchie. You're not even legally allowed to be sexy. They're objectifying you," Nate frowned. "It's disturbing. I don't like it."

"Me either, but do I really have a choice?" I moaned.

"You always have a choice, Mitchie," Nate stared down at me seriously. "Please make the right one."

His gaze bore into mine, and I would have punched Byron Byron right in his stupid glasses and followed through on my idea to burn my clothes just to stay in that moment for a second longer.

"Mitchie! Less conversing, more diversing! Let's get you up here and smouldering!" called Byron Byron from the chaise longue, winking at Kendra and patting her on the ass as she came in my direction.

"Let's go, darling," she drawled, slapping a studded bangle on my wrist. "Time to shine."

"Darcy!" I screeched, as a last attempt, calling the frantic woman over, who was followed by Jason, still with his fro-yo spoon in his mouth. "I'm really not comfortable with this!"

"I'm sorry, Mitchie, but if the label cleared it…" Darcy gulped and clutched her cell phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. "There's really no reason for you not to do the shoot."

"Yes, there is!" Nate protested loudly. "She's obviously unhappy with the whole scenario! It's very self-deprecating!"

"It's _art_," hissed Byron Byron, his little moustache quivering in fury. "If you can't appreciate that, I want you off my shoot! Get out!"

By this time, everyone on site was watching the drama go down. Jason and Shane sensed Nate prickling indignantly, and restrained him by one arm each as a precaution.

"Let it go, Nate, it's her decision," Jason implored, sending me a sad look.

"You don't have to do this, Mitchie," Shane spoke softly and without judgement, but his eyes were pleading with me not to go through with it.

I looked between the boys' beseeching faces, Kendra's severely unimpressed fake eyebrows, Darcy's quivering bottom lip and Byron Byron's furious eye twitch, and made my decision.

"Let's just get this over with," I repeated Kendra's earlier words, laying down provocatively on the chaise longue and avoiding the disappointment in my friends faces.

_**Reaction: Losing not only my dignity, but the respect that my friends and fans had for me, by becoming another pop tartlet who used sexuality to sell her image.**_

* * *

"Oh, Mitchie, you look super-cute!" Kendra squealed, making her way back over from an uncomfortable looking Connect Three.

She was either blind, or a really good liar. I looked like a clown prostitute who had fallen asleep in a tanning bed and then been attacked with Homer Simpson's make-up shotgun.

"I thought I would go for a more natural look?" I squeaked, grabbing a cotton ball and dabbing at the excess of eyeshadow on my lids.

"Really?" I'm assuming Kendra's forehead would have wrinkled with the same condescension in her voice if it hadn't been pumped with Botox. "I think _that_ look is totally faboosh!"

"What's faboosh?" I barely suppressed my giggles at her ridiculous vocabulary, still wiping away at my heavy make-up.

"It's a new word that we at Pop Informer are trying to get started. Faboosh, right?" Kendra looked way too proud of herself for inventing a word that sounded like a detergent.

"Like, oh my god, that is so fetch!" I squealed sarcastically.

Kendra was not impressed, but there was no way in hell I was going to let some super-primped, overzealous stylist tell me what looked good. God knows how she got her job, she looked like she borrowed all her clothes from a Bratz doll. I insisted that the make-up artist go with some more relaxed tones, with a splash of turquoise eyeliner for good measure. Once she had finished my second round, Kendra came over with a collection of clothes she'd already gotten off the rack.

"Now, I understand from Melody that you had a problem with wardrobe?" Kendra glared at me like those were not the sort of decisions I was entitled to.

"They're not very _me_," I shrugged.

"Well, we made some adjustments and I think you'll be a lot happier with these choices," Kendra pushed the bundle of garments into my arms and ushered me into a changing room.

I struggled to pull the tight dress over my head, and the belt that went with it looked plastic and trashy. I zipped up the buckled boots that Kendra had given me, but they were a few sizes too big. Great, just what I needed, something to add to my already indubitable clumsiness. I tottered out from behind the sheet I was changing behind and over to Connect Three, who seemed to be quietly arguing amongst themselves. I tried to no avail to pull the scant dress further up my chest, before drawing attention to myself.

"Does this make my butt look big?" I joked, turning to face the full length mirror and pretending not to notice when three sets of eyes zoned in on my ass.

"Absolutely not," Shane squeaked in a small voice.

"No way," Nate agreed, nodding fervently.

"I can actually see your butt. That dress doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?" Jason finished off, tactful as ever.

Nate smacked him on the back of the head as I turned back to face them. "I know, right? It's so slutty, why in the hell am I wearing this?" I echoed Jason's thoughts.

"Oh, Mitchie, good, you're done," Kendra popped up out of nowhere. "See, I knew you'd come around to this look."

"Yeah, see, I'm not really…" I started uncertainly, but a middle aged man with a peach fuzz moustache and oversized glasses, who was scrutinizing me from behind Kendra cut me off.

"I'm Mr. Byron, I'll be your photographer today," he introduced himself haughtily. "But you can call me Byron."

"Cool, just your last name?," I nodded eagerly, exchanging glances with Shane; his uncle Brown got us to call him by his last name, so maybe this dude would be just as chill.

"No, by my first name. Byron," Byron stared at me like I was missing a few vital brain functions.

"Your name is Byron… Byron?" I asked, gulping down the laughter bubbling in my throat.

"Correct," Byron Byron nodded, spinning to face the opposite way with a flourish. "And this is my vision!"

He strode forward purposefully, with me following, and for the first time I saw the set I'd be photographed on. It was a massive chaise longue scattered in black roses with a darkly lit backdrop. The moment I saw it my stomach dropped and I knew there was no way this would end well.

"You're a lonely girl with a dark past," Byron Byron strutted around the set dramatically, wildly gesticulating. "And you only want a little bit of the comfort of love that you've so desperately been craving your whole life. I want you to sell me your anguish. Show me your broken soul!"

"I don't _have_ a broken soul," I insisted.

"Oh, you will," Byron Byron reached out and brushed a sticky strand of hair away from my face, sending chills down my spine, and not in a good way. "This is the sort of artistic angle that will sell a whole lot of records, gorgeous. Your label's already approved my idea; they want your image to be a sort of sultry, miserable look."

"But I'm not sultry or miserable! I'm happy person! Can't we use my actual personality instead of some fabricated one?" I exclaimed.

"You cannot control one's creative mind!" Byron Byron cried scandalously. "This isn't just about image, it's about _art_!"

"Surely it would be more artistic if the circumstances were actually realistic?" I argued. "I think-"

"Look, you're not here to think. You're here to do. So _do_ as I tell you, and get your stubborn behind on that futon before I change my mind and send your record deal down the drain," Byron Byron snarled in a loud voice, drawing the attention of everyone on site.

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that!" Shane cried, stepping forward angrily.

"Yeah! She's not your Barbie doll!" Jason aligned himself with Shane, looking fiercer than I ever thought he could.

"Her deal doesn't hang in the balance of this shoot anyway! How dare you threaten her like that?" Nate chimed in, standing next to his best friends, equally matching their rage.

"So you're trying to tell me that you think she'd sell anything just being a 'happy person'?" Bryon Byron cackled derisively. "I was paid a lot of money to come and create my vision for you, and you're seriously going to throw it all away? No, you're going to do this shoot and you're going to like it! If you don't, I swear to God I will never work with any other artist from your label again!"

"Think about it, Mitchie," Kendra tossed me a hideously fake smile. "What do you think your audience will respond to? Boring old you, or the total faboosh-ness of this?"

"I think her audience will respond to the truth!" piped up a voice that I had barely ever heard talking more than a whisper. Poor Darcy looked like she was going to throw up for speaking out of turn, but her face looked a little less green when I sent her a grateful smile.

"So there you have it," I smirked, turning back to Byron Byron, Kendra and the rest of the fake Pop Informer team. "I don't care how much this cost, there is no price on self-respect."

And with that I gathered up my clothes I wore to the shoot and stormed out of the warehouse, Connect Three, Darcy and our management team in my wake.

_**Reaction: Losing a contract with a high-profile magazine, along with hundreds of thousands of dollars for the record label, but keeping my dignity and friendships firmly intact.**_

* * *

_I originally intended for this story to be kind of interactive where the readers choose what storyline would continue on to the next chapter, but apparently that's against the guidelines.  
__So instead I'm trying to get you involved by suggesting potential situations that I can put the characters in! Make it fun for everyone! So leave your suggestions in a __**review**__ and I'll see what I can do!  
__Try and be original, realistic and not too melodramatic. I want everyone to be a part of this story by opening up their imaginations. I won't enjoy it if you don't, so basically just go nuts!  
__If you could also include some feedback on this chapter it would be uber-awesome :D_


	5. The Defence Mechanism

_**Action: Facing the subsequent consequences of my previous actions.**_

"Yes, I understand that, but… No, I don't… but… I'm so sorry… I know she's my responsibility…no, sir…absolutely. Yes, sir. Goodbye," Darcy gabbled into her BlackBerry.

Sighing, she hung up and turned to me as I was busy shredding my fingernails into pieces with my teeth.

"You're walking on thin ice, Mitchie," Darcy whispered, placing a hand over her heart and looking like she was trying not to hyperventilate. "There's obviously going to be a lot of media backlash and the label doesn't like being associated with that sort of attitude. It's a PR nightmare. But Shane did things way worse than that back in the day, and this is only your first slip-up. Whereas he was a prick for months before they decided to send him to Camp Rock."

"Which turned out to be the best summer ever _and_ de-prick-ified me!" Shane defended himself from the sofa behind me.

We were back on the tour bus, waiting for every media outlet in the country to broadcast the news my photo shoot blow-up yesterday. Perez had already twittered about how Shane was corrupting me with his old habits, which was not only a shot at me but a low blow for the boys too. Darcy been fielding tons of calls from E! News who wanted to get all the dirty details of my apparent lack of artistic direction and 'holier-than-thou' attitude that Byron Byron had ranted about to the paparazzi that lingered on the street after we left.

"So I'm not dropped?" I bit my lip.

"No," Darcy gushed, and I exhaled a loud sigh of relief. "But you might be the target of a few slam blogs for the next few days. Try and keep a low profile."

Her BlackBerry started to spew out her Lady GaGa ringtone again, and she rolled her eyes at whoever popped up on caller ID. She gave us a meek smile before trotting out of the bus and answering her phone in a brisk, professional tone.

"Oh god, this is so humiliating," I groaned, falling back onto the sofa next to Shane, but my mood lifted slightly when he wrapped his arms around my waist and gave me a reassuring hug.

"You know what would cheer you up?" Jason walked over and squeezed my shoulder sympathetically.

"W-What?" I sniffled.

"Shopping!" he beamed.

"Seriously, Jason? Shopping? Out in public where everyone can see her?" Shane snorted cynically.

"Hey!" I protested indignantly.

"Sorry, you know I didn't mean it like that," Shane shot me an apologetic look.

"Just because I'm public enemy number one right now doesn't mean I have to be afraid of setting foot outside my own front door!" I frowned and crossed my arms across my chest defensively.

"You know what, Jason? I think retail therapy might just be what the doctor ordered," Nate jumped up from his spot at the kitchen table, attempting to avert a potential argument.

"What doctor? I'm not a doctor," Jason looked at Nate like he'd been smoking something funny.

"I _know_," Nate rolled his eyes at me, and I held back a giggle.

"Then where's the doctor?" Jason persisted.

"There is no doctor!" Nate exclaimed, exchanging bemused glances with Shane and I.

"But you said…" Jason looked thoroughly confused now.

"It was a metaphor!" Nate huffed, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Metaphorically, who's a doctor?"

Nate slapped his forehead. "You are, Jase."

Jason nibbled his lip contemplatively. "Awesome!" he cried, he face splitting into a wide grin.

"I think there's a mall a couple of blocks from here," Nate peered out the window and pointedly ignored Jason's comment as I laughed and Shane groaned.

"So let's go!" Shane grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, and he couldn't hide the smile that graced his lips when I linked my fingers in between his.

Have you ever been followed around by a 300 pound African American man who looks like he could smash a head open like a melon and snap bones like a twig?

Welcome to the life of Connect Three. Wherever they went, 'The Hammer' went too. He was a sweet enough guy, but I'd seen enough psychopathic fans and paparazzi try and take him on to know that he was not somebody you wanted to mess with.

We meandered around the mall for a couple of hours or so without a fuss. Shane invested in _another_ pair of skinny jeans and Ray Ban wayfarers, Nate and I bought a bunch of vintage t-shirts that we probably didn't need but couldn't resist, and Jason insisted on getting a 'make your own bird-feeder' kit, even though we reminded him that we were still on the road for the next two months and all the seeds would have congealed together by then.

But then we hit a road bump.

"I'm hun-gry!" Shane whinged, accentuating the separate syllables.

"You can wait a few more minutes until we get back to the bus, can't you?" Nate sighed irritably, turning to look at Jason and I. "I want to have a look in Borders before we go. You coming?"

"I'm in the mood for some Burger King," Jason said to nobody in particular and started dawdling in the direction of the food court.

"Excellent," Shane grinned, and went to follow him, but hesitated and looked back at me. "Mitch?"

I looked between Nate and Shane, both with pleading expressions on their faces.

"I could really go for some Chick-fil-A right now," I shrugged, taking a step towards Shane, smiling apologetically at Nate. "Maybe later?"

Nate huffed melodramatically and turned on his heel in the direction of Borders, but The Hammer stopped him. "Oh no, you don't. Not by yourself. It's food court or bust, pal."

"Fine," Nate huffed. "You guys owe me a new book."

"Deal, only if I can read it after," I held out my hand and he shook it it, but he didn't let go until Shane links my arm in his and tugged me towards to food court.

I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my fingers, and I tried not to be too disappointed as I felt it diminish.

We split up in the food court to get our different meals, and as I was standing in the queue in Chick-fil-A, I heard a couple of girls whispering not so subtely behind me.

"It's not!"

"Is so! I recognize her hair!"

"Mitchie Torres would not wear those shoes, trust me."

I smiled to myself as I ordered my Chargrilled Chicken Club. These were my favourite pair of beat-up sneakers in the world. I would wear them whenever and wherever I could.

"Holy cow, it's so her!"

"Can you stop being such a loser? She's not that Connect 3 whore!"

Ouch. It's one thing to hear about people calling you names on the internet where you don't have to hear the words and see the faces of your attackers. Having people slam you basically right in front of your face is a completely different experience.

"Can you believe she stormed off that photo shoot? What a total skank!"

"And they seriously expect us to believe she's not screwing any of them? Hello, if you were around three guys as hot as them 24/7, how could you not?"

Their complete lack of regard for my actual existence as a person and not a just face in a magazine made my stomach churn. I didn't even think I was that prominent in the public eye to have my life scrutinized under a microscope, but here I was being analysed by two teenage girls who couldn't distinguish me from your average chicken sandwich enthusiast.

"Which one, do you think?"

"Shane. Chemistry's definitely there. They have the eye sex thing going on every time they're interviewed together."

She was right there. So I had a habit of staring at Shane while he was giving interviews. Sue me. I couldn't help it, he got so passionate talking about the things he loves, and the way we interact, even when people are watching, well, most would consider that more than purely platonic. I sure did.

"No way! Did you see the way Nate was looking at her in that video from The Staples Center? He was full undressing her with his eyes, they're _so_ doing it."

That one totally caught me off guard. I'm fairly sure that Nate had never seen me as anything other than a good friend. I mean, sure, he told me I'm pretty, and his hugs always last a little longer than most. He's always bumping my arms, poking my sides, stealing my stuff and holding it out of my reach, and…

Oh my god, what was this? Did Nate like me? As in _like me_, like me? What the hell? No! He couldn't. But the signs were all there, and deny them as I might, there was definitely something more to my relationship with Nate than I could admit. And I really didn't want to admit that this little epiphany might have me reciprocating these feelings.

I was handed the paper bag with my combo in it and I took a deep breath, holding back the tears that prickled at the back of my eyes as I turned to face my judge, jury and executioners.

"Hi girls," I grinned widely at them. There was no way in hell I was going to give two people who clearly take joy in bad-mouthing people they don't know the satisfaction of knowing what they said had any adverse effect on me whatsoever.

"Oh my god!" They screeched simultaneously, looking mortified. They were stunned silent for a second, before one hissed 'I told you so' to the other, and a hushed argument broke out.

I just breezed past them, making my way over to the table where Shane, Jason and The Hammer were sitting. I arrived just at the same time as Nate, and he smiled politely at me, pulling out a chair for me to sit down. I glanced back at Chick-fil-A where the two girls were still whispering frantically, and I saw their eyes widen at this simple gentlemanly gesture.

I glared at him and pulled out the other empty chair myself, plonking down on it and sighing melodramatically. Stupid Nate and his stupid semi-flirting and stupid gorgeous smile…

Stop, Mitchie!

"What's the matter?" Shane mumbled through a mouthful of rice, his forehead crinkling in concern at my melancholy face.

"See Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there?" I jerked my head towards my fan club, and they ducked out of sight as soon as they saw the whole table turn to look at them.

"The two walking Hot Topic advertisements hiding under a table?" Nate raised his eyebrows.

"Bingo. Let's just say they had a debate on my ethics while standing right behind me," I frowned, trying to keep my bottom lip from trembling. "They didn't exactly hold back."

"Aw, Mitchie, what did they say?" Jason cooed sympathetically.

"Some not very nice things," I whispered, my voice wavering. No matter how much I tried to disguise it, their words hurt. They hurt a lot.

"Well, fuck them, Mitch," Shane shrugged, taking another bite out of his sushi roll.

"Shane!" Jason scolded, as a couple of mothers sitting nearby covered their children's ears and glowered in his direction. "Language!"

"Well, it's true!" Shane insisted. "Seriously, Mitchie, fuck 'em. They are millions of people in the world, and not everybody is going to like who you are or what you do. But you can't let that stand in your way of being yourself and doing what you want to do. And so you get a couple of judgmental bitches talking trash about you once in a while. Who cares? You know the truth. The people who matter know the type of person you are. If you just stick to your guns and keep you head held high there won't be anything that can tear you down."

"Thanks, Shane," I smiled at him and took his hand, but when I glanced up at the others to give them a reassuring smile, Nate quickly averted his gaze like he had been looking at me in a way he didn't want me to see. I felt the butterflies explode in my chest, and then felt the urge to suppress them.

Damn it. He did like me. And I might like him.

**Reaction: A bruised ego that healed quickly, and a mixture of similar feelings for two very different boys. Crap. I'm screwed.**

* * *

"I'm hun-gry!" Shane whinged, accentuating the separate syllables.

"You can wait a few more minutes until we get back to the bus, can't you?" Nate sighed irritably, turning to look at Jason and I. "I want to have a look in Borders before we go. You coming?"

"I'm in the mood for some Burger King," Jason said to nobody in particular and started dawdling in the direction of the food court.

"Excellent," Shane grinned, and went to follow him, but hesitated and looked back at me. "Mitch?"

I looked between Nate and Shane, both with pleading expressions on their faces.

"Actually, I finished Bridget Jones's Diary last night. I need something new to read as well," I shrugged, taking a step towards Nate, smiling apologetically at Shane.

"Can't we go after I have something to eat?" Shane pouted.

"We don't have enough time," Nate huffed. "They have a café in the shop."

"But I want sushi," Shane glared treacherously at both of us as his tummy gave a large growl. "Screw you guys, I'm going."

"No dice," The Hammer cut in, grabbing Jason by the back of his jacket and steering him in the right direction, blocking Shane's path. "We're not splitting up. It's Borders or bust, pal."

"Fine," Shane huffed. "You guys owe me a bunch of California rolls."

"That's not even real sushi," I chuckled as we set off in the direction of the bookstore.

"Jesus, they still have all this Twilight promotional garbage hanging around?" Nate cringed as we walked in through the sliding doors and the first thing we saw was a massive poster of Edward looking infatuated and passionate and dazzling, while Bella sat there boring and unsmiling.

Shane just rolled his eyes and stalked over to the café next to the magazine section, while Jason made a beeline for the beanbags in Children's Fiction. The Hammer hung around at the listening post, sizing up anyone that came within three feet of his charges.

Nate was still turning his nose up at the most predominantly featured book in the whole store. "What a joke," he sneered at the black book with the pale hands holding an apple on the cover.

"Hey, don't knock my Eddy baby," I frowned, giving him a glare and snatching up one of the many Twilight books on display, clutching it to my chest lovingly.

"Oh, Mitchie, please tell me you're not one of _those _girls," Nate looked at me condescendingly and I felt my Edward Cullen automatic defence mechanism rev into action.

"There is nothing wrong with being infatuated with a fictional character," I sniffed haughtily, hugging the book tighter, before Nate plucked it out of my grasp, shaking his head.

"Mitchie, you want a good vampire story? Read something by Anne Rice."

"I have!" I scoffed crossly. "I love her Vampire Chronicles. But they're two very different styles of writing in completely different settings. It's like comparing Kathy Reichs to Janet Evanovich!"

"Except Stephanie Meyer couldn't have gotten a B plus for this if she handed it in as a middle school English assignment. I don't get it!" he exclaimed, flicking through the pages with his thumb. "What is the big friggin' deal? I read the first chapter once and wanted to stab my eyes out. It's utter bull shit!"

"It's not!" I giggled, putting my hands on my hips. "It's like… well, it's kinda like a Yodel."

"You're seriously comparing a piece of teen literature to processed, sugary baked goods?" Nate raised an eyebrow at me in amused scepticism.

"Yes!" I grinned at him. "You know, if you want some rich, well-made cake or gourmet pastry, you know where to get them. But eating Yodels, you have a specific purpose and reason for eating them, and even though they don't take as good as, say, home-baked cookies, they still satisfy their purpose, and sometimes you just want a damn Yodel."

"Right," Nate still shook his head disbelievingly, but I could see that he understood where I was coming from. "So what is so great about Edward Cullen? I heard he sparkles."

"He does!" I squealed, before regaining my composure. "The vampires have skin like diamonds."

Nate groaned loudly, and I punched him in the arm. "Shut up!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand why even the girls with half a brain swoon over this dude," Nate rolled his eyes.

"Wish fulfilment," I shrugged simply.

"Huh?"

"The most important element of this book is wish fulfilment. Don't get me wrong, the appeal of the boy changed for the better by the one they love is an endearing side piece," I paused to give a wistful little sigh, "but I think the reason why girls think this book is so great because it suits their wildest, cheesy romantic dreams."

"So why not just read Pride and Prejudice or something?" Nate's mouth twisted into a confused grimace. "The classic romantic love story? It's a good book, too!"

I was startled for second from the shock that a male specimen had voluntarily read Jane Austen, and then proceeded to like it, and then admitted to liking it. I blew my bangs out of my face to clear my thoughts before continuing.

"Yes, but that's something that we _know_ can happen in real life. There's always magic to having a wish come true. Harry Potter? His Dark Materials? Narnia Chronicles? Pirates of the Caribbean? You want to be _that_ person in _that _world. Everyday people are thrust into this supernatural adventure and golly gosh it's all just so exciting! Reader proxy allows us to live vicariously through their adventures, and we use them to create our own wishes to fulfil," I peer at Nate carefully as he mulls this over, his knuckles pressed against his lips and his eyes clouded with thought.

"That still doesn't explain why Twilight is so huge, when other books that are less popular are clearly of a much higher standard," he pronounced eventually.

"Ah, my dear Nathaniel, you cannot understand this because you have no idea what it is like to be in the shoes of a lovesick adolescent female," I smiled at him brazenly. "Bella, being the boring, selfish bitch she is, immediately goes on for several pages on how she doesn't fit in anywhere and no one understands her, boo fuckedy hoo. But Edward falls in love with her and goes against his very nature in order to be with her. _That_ is romantic. The clumsy, whiny girl gets the flawless, sparkly vampire, and as a bonus, his flawless, sparkly vampire family love her too, with the exception of one whiny, self-loathing sister. It gives hope to every clumsy, whiny teenage girl that nobody understands that somewhere is this big, bad world they have their very own Edward to fall into eternal love with, who is willing to run over potential rapists with his Volvo and would rather die than live without them."

Nate listened to me rant on about all of this with his mouth slightly agape. "So… what you're saying is, this singular, non-existent perfect teenage vampire is enough to forgive Stephanie Meyer for the lack of a narrative arc and an actual plot?"

"Nearly," I giggled. "Jacob Black scored her extra brownie points. But I agree, the whole book is Bella having a fat sulk about everything. Why doesn't he like me, why does he like me now, why does he hate me again, he likes me, he hates me, he likes me again and now he LOVES ME! But wait, time for vampire thunderstorm baseball, oh hey, now there's sociopathic vampire out for my blood. Rather than letting the professionals deal with it, I'm just going to throw myself into the path of death for the ones I love. Would you look at that, they saved me in the nick of time. Let's go to prom! WHEEE HAPPILY EVER AFTER UNTIL I BECOME OLD AND WRINKLY AND DIE WHILE EDWARD LIVES FOREVER!"

"You're insane," Nate chuckled as I drew some odd looks from other store-goers.

"I like Twilight in the same way I like Yodels," I smiled, taking the book out of Nate's hands and putting it back on the display stand. "They're crap and you know it, but if someone waves one in front of your face, you're not going to turn it down."

Nate looked at me with an indecipherable expression on his face. I gave him a funny look to disguise the tingling in my stomach, and resumed my search for a new book.

"Oh, I've been wanting to read this!" I exclaimed, picking up _A Thousand Splendid Suns_.

"Pick one for me," Nate took a step towards me and his gaze was so intense I felt my cheeks flush.

"Um, okay," I let my hair fall in a curtain across my face so he wouldn't see how flustered he made me feel. But I could still sense his eyes on me as I browsed through the shelves for an old favourite.

I've been feeling weird ever since that night at the waffle house. A match was struck when Nate called me pretty, and it started to burn a little brighter since I fell in to him yesterday on set. He just seems, I dunno, _different_.

But I was being ridiculous. Nate's just a good friend. A purely platonic friend. I mean, sure, his hugs always last a little longer than most, he's always bumping my arms, poking my sides, stealing my stuff and holding it out of my reach, but…

Oh my god, what was this? Did Nate like me? As in _like me_, like me? What the hell? No! He couldn't. But the signs were all there, and deny them as I might, there was definitely something more to my relationship with Nate than I could admit. And I really didn't want to admit that this little epiphany might have me reciprocating these feelings.

"Here," I murmured, pulling _Life of Pi_ off the shelf. "I think you'll like this. I loved it."

"Excellent," he grinned, turning them over in his hands to read the blurb as Jason came gallivanting back towards us.

"Hey Jase, did you find anything good?" I grinned up at him, grateful for the distraction from the curly-haired boy scrutinizing the book in front of me.

"I want this one, and this one, and this one," Jason pushed _The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Matilda_ and _Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing_ into my hands one at a time.

"Awesome," I laughed, stacking our two books on top of his pile.

"Shane!" I called across the aisle. "Ready to go?"

"Oh, thank god!" he cried, snatching up his Rolling Stone magazine.

"You don't want a book?" I prodded him in the side teasingly as he slung an arm over my shoulder.

"Unless it's about how to make food magically appear in your stomach, I'm not interested," he snapped as we made our way over to the check out.

"Okay, okay," I held up my hands in surrender and gave the cashier our books.

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up and I got this funny feeling like I was being watched. I gazed over Shane's shoulder to see Nate staring at us, but quickly averted his gaze like he as soon as he caught me looking. I felt the butterflies explode in my chest, and then felt the urge to suppress them. Stupid Nate and his stupid semi-flirting and his stupid dreamy eyes…

Damn it. He did like me. And I might like him.

**Reaction: A tween fantasy justification in a search for good books, and a mixture of similar feelings for two very different boys. Crap. I'm screwed.**

* * *

_Can you tell I'm a total nerd? :) I didn't even mention half of my favourites books, it was serious self-restraint, let me tell you. If you haven't read any of those books, go and do it. Do it now.  
__A thousand thanks and hugs to __faerietaleredux__ whose billion gazillion word reviews made my day, and for providing the fantastic idea of a bookstore. I cannot, however, take full credit for the opinion of Twilight. That's my general attitude towards the phenomenon, but I have one of my friends and her unhealthy livejournal forum obsession to thank for the analysis.  
__I heart __**reviews **__:)_


	6. The Australian Addition

_**Action: A new addition to the tour. **_

After I'd given an interview explaining my side of the story from the photo shoot debacle, I found that the public reaction was mostly in support of my decision. Although I had still found a few articles that had no problem slandering me and my so-called 'ethics'. But after Shane had given me his rousing "fuck 'em" speech, I got over that pretty quickly.

Now I had to deal with the prospect of another girl joining a portion of the tour. Apparently she was a new artist the label had just signed, and they wanted to expose her to some of our audience to see how she would fit in. When they had mentioned it weeks and weeks ago I thought nothing of it, but it was like she'd snuck up on us and suddenly she was arriving the next day. I had made the boys do a whirlwind clean of our bus to make it look at least slightly acceptable.

"You guys ready to meet Lauren? She's doing her soundcheck now," Darcy greeted us as we rolled up to some arena of whatever state we were in, tours make you lose all sense of direction.

I could hear the thump of a bassline and a buzz of an electric synthesizer from inside, and so I nodded along with Connect Three as we entered to see the girl who we would be spending the next two weeks with.

My first impression was _wow_. I was at least one hundred metres from the stage and I could still pick her out. She was bouncing around in a fluorescent pink t-shirt dress and silver leggings with a pair of multi-coloured Converse. It was a difficult combination to pull off but the blonde girl did it flawlessly. And I could see I wasn't the only one gawking, from the way Jason, Shane and Nate were elbowing each other suggestively.

Her sound check finished and she was ushered over to where we were waiting in the wings, and despite the exuberance of her clothes, the poor girl looked downright terrified.

"So this is Jason, Nate and Shane, they're Connect Three, of course you know that, and this is Mitchie, their other opening act," Darcy waved her towards us.

"Hi," we all nodded in greeting and shook her hand lightly.

"Hey there, I'm Lauren Burke." Oh my god, she was Australian too. The boys were already practically drooling. "It's nice to meet you guys."

"What, no 'G'day'?" Shane joked lightly.

"'Fraid not," she grinned.

"So, you're from Awes-trel-yah!" Jason put on a terrible accent, obviously in a bid to impress her. "Are you going throw a shrimp on the barbie for us?"

"You don't have to talk like that, you know. Contrary to popular belief, Australians speak regular English just like everyone else, we just sound shitloads cooler when we talk. And for the record, we don't call them shrimp, they're prawns. No, I don't ride around in kangaroo pouches. Not all dingoes are baby thieves. Koalas are not bears, they are marsupials. Sydney is not the capital city, Canberra is. I don't carry around a big knife, but I have played knifey-spooney before. Any more questions?" she smiled sweetly at us.

We simultaneously shook our heads in bewildered silence.

"Jokes, guys. I thought that answering all the stupid questions I usually get asked all at once would break the ice, but apparently not."

I wondered where this Lauren girl got off being an arrogant condescending snob to people she barely knows. So she's from Australia, big deal.

"So how long will you be touring with us, Lauren?" I asked breezily, even though we all knew the answer, earning me some odd looks from the boys.

"Oh, just until the twentieth," she burbled back at me, and I jerked the corners of my mouth up in a forced smile. "I'm so excited, this is going to be the best!"

"The absolute best!" I chirped sardonically, and I could tell she noticed by the way her wide grin faltered.

"Oh, yeah, um," I had made her uncomfortable and felt a little bit guilty, but the air was thickening with awkwardness by the second and she wasn't helping one bit.

"We were just going to go and get something to eat," I shrugged suddenly, grabbing the closest wrist, Nate's, and dragging him away, purposefully not inviting her along.

"We were? Hey, Mitchie," he protested. "Hold up, I want to meet Lauren properly."

"Did you hear her? What a cow!" I snapped as soon as we were out of earshot, irritated that Shane and Jason hadn't followed our lead and were still talking to Lauren, while casting curious glances in our direction.

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Nate frowned at me. "You're the one who's always saying you can't always get by on a first impression."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he gave me a sharp look that made my jaw snap shut. Ever since I realised that he might maybe have a little bit of a crush on me, I'd been consciously focused on not doing anything that could be misconstrued as flirting or leading him on, as Shane and I pretty much flirt with each other 24/7 anyway.

"Just give her a chance, Mitch, she's obviously really nervous," he gave my shoulder a squeeze before grabbing a banana and pressing it into my palm.

"Eat up," he winked, walking back over to his band mates and the petite, technicoloured Lauren, oblivious to the dreamy smile that flitted across my face.

I shook my head, annoyed with myself. It's not that hard to just draw a line. But every time I think I've laid it down, Nate comes along and pushes it a little bit further with his uncanny ability to get under my skin. I watched him interact with Lauren for a few seconds longer, before rolling my eyes and going to talk to our sound technicians.

The show that night was amazing. The fans reacted really well to Lauren's music, which was an eclectic mix of dance electro-pop and sweet, heartfelt piano ballads. As much as I hated to admit it, she was a very talented musician. If she didn't have such a personality disorder I might actually have liked her. I rocked my set as well, and Connect Three brought down the house like always. We congratulated each other backstage, with all three boys engulfing Lauren in a huge hug, much to my displeasure. I just stood to the side and gave her what was meant to be an encouraging pat on the back, but I think I ended up hitting her a little to hard because she winced in pain as soon as my hand connected with her shoulder blade.

Whoops.

I was not jealous, okay?

We had gotten back to the hotel and I was walking down the hall to my room, ready to have a nice hot shower, when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. I squealed loudly before a warm hand clamped down over my mouth.

"Chill, Mitchie! Someone will think I'm raping you," Shane chuckled, releasing me.

"Please, I could take you," I retorted teasingly, punching his shoulder. "Jesus, you scared the crap out of me. Don't do that!"

"Sorry," he shrugged, not sounding sorry at all. "So listen, what are you doing now?"

I gave him a look that said 'I just played for 15,000 people and now I smell like a dirty sock. Take a wild guess.'

"Coz I was thinking," he continued, but I cut him off with a snort.

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Funny," he sneered. "Look, I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to go grab some dinner with me?"

"Yeah, sure," I nodded. It wasn't all that uncommon for all of us to go and eat out somewhere after a show, so it was a little peculiar for Shane to be asking so tentatively. "Let me take a shower, and then we can go grab Nate and Jase, I hear that there's a really good Italian place aroun-"

"No, Mitch, that's not what I meant," he shook his head and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go out to dinner with _me_."

"As in, go… _out_?" To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. Having Shane ask me out on a date had come completely out of left field. I mean, sure, I liked him, he liked me, but I hadn't expected it to go much further than that for now. I always thought that we'd get our act together at the end of the tour, when we would be less stressed and overworked and would just have more time to appreciate each other, rather than living in each others laps. Although when I took into consideration the possibility of maybe Nate liking me, I was having second thoughts about that course of action.

I'd been silent for a few moments now and I could see the humiliation and rejection ripple across Shane's features. "You know what, never mind, it was stupid…"

"Yes," I blurted out. "Yes, I would love to go."

"Really?"

"No. Psych!" I laughed sarcastically, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "Just let me have a shower and freak out about what to wear."

"Yeah, you smell a bit like a dirty sock," Shane mumbled into my hair, and I pulled away, insulted.

"You sure know how to woo a lady," I growled.

He just laughed and took my hand in his. "I wouldn't worry about your outfit. You'll look great no matter what. You always do."

And with that he pressed him lips to the back of my hand, before sauntering away looking quite pleased with himself indeed.

_**Reaction: Being asked out on a date by the guy of my dreams, who I wasn't so sure I wanted anymore.**_

* * *

"So this is Jason, Nate and Shane, they're Connect Three, of course you know that, and this is Mitchie, their other opening act," Darcy waved her towards us.

"Hi," we all nodded in greeting and shook her hand lightly.

"Hey there, I'm Lauren Burke." Oh my god, she was Australian too. The boys were already practically drooling. "It's nice to meet you guys."

"What, no 'G'day'?" Shane joked lightly.

"'Fraid not," she grinned.

"So, you're from Awes-trel-yah!" Jason put on a terrible accent, obviously in a bid to impress her. "Are you going throw a shrimp on the barbie for us?"

"You don't have to talk like that, you know. Contrary to popular belief, Australians speak regular English just like everyone else, we just sound shitloads cooler when we talk. And for the record, we don't call them shrimp, they're prawns. No, I don't ride around in kangaroo pouches. Not all dingoes are baby thieves. Koalas are not bears, they are marsupials. Sydney is not the capital city, Canberra is. I don't carry around a big knife, but I have played knifey-spooney before. Any more questions?" she smiled sweetly at us.

We simultaneously shook our heads in bewildered silence.

"Jokes, guys. Sorry, I thought that answering all the stupid questions I usually get asked all at once would break the ice, but apparently not."

Lauren was blunt to the point of social trainwreck. I liked her immediately.

"Ignore them," I laughed, shoving the shoulder of the Nate, who was closest to me. "They're idiots."

"I resent that," he pouted at me, and I giggled, before stopping myself. Ever since I realised that he might maybe have a little bit of a crush on me, I'd been consciously focused on not doing anything that could be misconstrued as flirting or leading him on, as Shane and I pretty much flirt with each other 24/7 anyway.

So instead I struck up a conversation with Lauren about her shoes, which carried until Jason came over and told me that one of the sound technicians wanted to talk to me, him and Nate about our guitar set-up. I was standing there listening to him babble on about leads and something or other when I felt a pair of elbows dig into my shoulders and a chin rest itself on top of my head. I knew who it was from the watch on the hand that dangled in front of my face, and the familiar vague smell of chocolate.

"Ouch, Nate," I grumbled, shrugging him off, but he was too strong and after a few seconds of wriggling I gave up and let him lean on me because maybe I was enjoying it too.

But then I glanced guiltily over at Shane who was only half-paying attention to Lauren as she flailed her arms around describing something. The other half was trained on his best friend being in such close proximity to me, and I couldn't decide whether he looked jealous or hurt, but then he saw I was looking and masked his emotions, giving me a cheery wave as I rolled my eyes at Nate lounging all over me and the sound tech's never-ending rant.

The show that night was amazing. The fans reacted really well to Lauren's music, which was an eclectic mix of dance electro-pop and sweet, heartfelt piano ballads. She might be have one of those personalities that perplexes you at first, but below the surface she was a total sweetheart and a very talented musician. I rocked my set as well, and Connect Three brought down the house like always. We congratulated each other backstage, with all three boys engulfing Lauren and I in a huge hug. I felt a jerk in my chest I saw Shane hug Lauren individually while Nate had his arms around my waist, but I couldn't possibly be jealous. What did I care that Shane has grown close to the new kid on tour? It was no different to the way I'd grown close to Nate and Jason.

But the thing was, I didn't want Shane getting to know Lauren in the way I'd gotten to know Nate, so well that more than platonic feelings had developed. It was unbelievably selfish and hypocritical of me, and I didn't know why I felt that way, but still, the thought of Shane with anyone else with me made bile rise in my throat and my fists clench in anger.

We had gotten back to the hotel and I was walking down the hall to my room with Lauren, chatting about the crowd tonight and thinking about having a nice hot bath, when she invited me to come and hang out in her hotel room and get to know each other, 'become tour sisters' as she put it. So I ducked into my room quickly to jump in the shower, before throwing on an old tank top with sweats and knocking cheerily on the door of her room.

"Hey!" she ushered me in, wearing pyjamas just as if not brighter than her day clothes, and I wondered how she managed to sleep at night with all those colours. "Wanna drink?"

I turned around nodding, thinking she meant a Coke or something, when I saw the beer bottle in her hand. "What is that?" I squeaked.

"Uh, Budweiser?" she shrugged, peering at the label. "It's the only foreign beer I can stand to drink, everything else is just gross."

"B-but, won't you get in trouble?" I slammed the door shut behind me, like a paparazzo would spring up out of nowhere and get a snapshot of us.

"Why?" she wrinkled her nose. "Oh right, I keep forgetting that's it's not legal here until I'm twenty-one. Damn. Oh well, you're not going to tell anyone, right?"

"No way," I shook my head adamantly.

"Then there's no problem," she grinned, taking another swig and pulling another out of the fridge. "So do you want one or not?"

"Does it taste any good?" I wrinkled my nose, taking a sceptical step forward.

"I think it does,' Lauren shrugged. "But it's not for everyone."

She stuck the bottle neck in the crook of her elbow and twisted, and with a hiss and a pop the bottletop was on the ground and she was holding out a open beer towards me.

"That's a neat trick," I grinned, taking it from her.

"Yeah, it's how I attract the opposite sex," she joked, plopping down on her bed and sitting cross-legged on her comforter, patting the spot next to her.

I took a sip of the beer as I sat down and gagged at first at how the bitter, yeasty flavour tickled down my throat, but after I had swallowed my taste buds burned for more.

"So, whereabouts are you from, Mitchie?" Lauren began.

Three beers later and Lauren and I were rolling around on her bed, clutching our stomachs with laughter at a joke she made about cornballers that I don't even remember now. Once we had calmed down and wiped the tears out of our eyes, she leaned forward with a more serious look on her face.

"So do you have a boyfriend?"

I but my lip and shook my head slowly. "No. Do you?"

"Hah! Yeah right, I'm like the most emotionally stunted person on the planet. I always fall for the guys out of reach, so I settle for the ones who let me push them around, and in the end I just get bored and break their hearts. Seriously, I don't know why I even bother," she scoffs. "But I can't believe you don't have something going on with Nate! You guys just seem so… together."

"What?" I screeched, sitting bolt upright. "No! No, no, I'm not together with Nate!"

"Okay, okay, geez," Lauren held up her hands defensively. "It's just that I asked Shane today if you were dating Nate, and he didn't really answer, so I thought…"

"You WHAT?" I shrieked, even louder than before. "Why would you do that? It's _Shane_ that I have some weird thing going on with!"

"Really?" she gasped. "Oh shit, Mitch, I'm so sorry, I didn't know! What's this weird thing, then?"

I briefly explained to her the events of the previous summer at Camp Rock, and how Shane was the first guy who I ever really connected with, and why we weren't really dating now because we didn't think we were ready, and we were quite comfortable with where we stood at that point in time. I ignored the feeling of doubt that gnawed away inside of me that suggested that I might not want to take my relationship with Shane to the next level anymore.

"Oh my god, I can't believe I asked him if the girl he liked was going out with his best friend!" Lauren stared at me with wide eyes, sitting up to face me.

"I hope he doesn't freak out or anything," I bit my lip anxiously. "Because whatever I have with Nate-"

"So you _do_ have something with Nate!" she exclaimed. "I'm not just some idiot who can't read body language as well as she thought. I knew it!"

"No, it's not what you think!" I blushed. "I mean… do you think it's possibly to have feelings for two people at once?"

"I'd say it's absolutely possible," Lauren nodded. "Humans aren't monogamous by nature, Mitchie. We can't control who we're attracted to. The chemicals in our brain go _PEW! PEW! PEW!_ and we're having animalistic urges to physically be with them."

"So you think it's okay to date more than one person at a time?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Oh, no freakin' way! If you've committed yourself to a singular person, then your higher, morally correct brain functions should tell you to be faithful."

"See, that's the thing," I sighed. "Shane and I never really exclusively committed ourselves to each other. I think we both kinda assumed that we'd always get together no matter what, no need to rush. But then Nate comes along and starts pushing all my buttons with his uncanny ability to get under my skin. And now I have no idea what to do."

"Mitchie, I hate to say this, I do, coz it seems like both of these guys care for you a lot. But you can't have your cake and eat it too," she frowned gravely at me.

"I know," I moaned, collapsing backwards theatrically. "But they both get me in completely different ways. Nate and I have the same taste in _everything_. Sense of humour, books, music, movies, you name it. It's like I say potato and then he says potato too. But Shane knows my mind, why I do the things I do, why I say the things I say. Sometimes I swear he's psychic."

"And what does he say when you say potato?" she leaned forward inquisitively.

I paused and thought for a moment, before giggling "french fries."

We both burst out laughing again for no reason, when there was a knock at her door. Lauren and I exchanged apprehensive, simultaneously shushing at each other to be quiet, in case we were being too noisy and disturbing the other guests, which was really the only reason someone would come knocking at this time of night. But that only sent us into another fit of giggles, so we both stumbled over to the door and swung it open.

"Speak of the devils!' Lauren squealed as Nate and Shane stood out in the hall.

"Huh?" Shane knitted his brow in confusion.

"Oh nothing, come in," Lauren said breezily, waving them in to her room, tripping over me as she took a step backwards, which only set off our chuckling again.

"Are you _drunk?_" Nate scowled as he entered, taking note of the empty beer bottles strewn across the coffee table.

"No I'm not!" I retorted. "Well, maybe a little."

"Mitchie," Shane scolded teasingly. "You're going to be sorry when you wake up tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, we'll see," I poked my tongue out at him and plonked myself on Lauren's sofa.

"We've been looking for you all night, what have you been doing?" Nate probed acutely.

"Comparing you guys to potatoes and discussing the innermost workings of the human heart," Lauren winked at me while I scowled at her and shook my head warningly.

"Sounds fascinating," Shane rolled his eyes. "But seriously, it's late, and we have to leave super early tomorrow. You should really be getting some sleep."

"Okay, we'll go to bed on one condition," Lauren strode towards us defiantly. "Both of you guys have to tell us what is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of love."

My cheeks burned and I glared at her with all my might. I knew what she was doing. She was trying to push me to make a choice, based on the answers the boys would give.

"Shane?" she prompted.

His gaze flicked to me for a second before looking back at her. "Do we seriously have to?"

"Yes, you seriously have to, otherwise Mitchie and I will lock you in here and sing Taylor Swift at the top of our lungs til four in the morning."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes. "Um, when I think of love I think of someone who can put up with me for the rest of their life."

"Fair enough," Lauren nodded, staring me down meaningfully. I just glared at her harder. "Nate?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You'll laugh at me."

"We swear we won't!" Lauren reassured him.

"I swear no such thing," Shane grunted. "I will laugh at whatever the hell I want."

I elbowed him in the ribs and he grunted in pain, before grabbing me in a headlock and smiling at Nate while I was still struggling. "Please continue, Nathaniel."

From what I could see in my compromised position, Nate rolled his eyes and started pacing. "When I think of love I think of like… white doves and shit."

"What?" Lauren giggled, earning her a nasty glare.

"You guys swore you wouldn't laugh!" Nate mumbled through gritted teeth.

"_She_ swore she wouldn't laugh," Shane corrected him, releasing me. "Mitch and I are not bound by our words and are therefore free to mock you at our will."

"Yeah, well, it's the truth," Nate spat. "I believe in true love's first kiss and happily ever afters, okay? I know it sounds dumb, but…"

"It doesn't sound dumb, Nate," I smiled at him. "It's really sweet."

"So you believe in true love too?" his eyes widened optimistically.

"God, no," I scoffed, standing up and yawning tiredly. "What a load of crap."

"It is not!" Nate replied hotly. "One day you'll find your Prince Charming, mark my words, Mitchie Torres. I can't wait to say I told you so."

"Whatever," I shrugged, heading towards the door. "Well, I'm tired. Good night everyone."

"Hey, no fair!" Shane jumped up. "You didn't tell us about what you think about when you think of love!"

"That wasn't part of the deal," Lauren smirked. "We've already talked about it, you should have joined us earlier, suckers. Now please get out of my room, thank you and good night."

Within seconds Nate, Shane and I found ourselves forcibly ejected into the hall, but Lauren caught my arm on my way out, leaning over to whisper in my ear.

"When I mentioned love, Nate looked out the window at the moon. The first thing Shane looked at was you. I think you might have already found your Prince Charming, honey. "

And with that she shut the door in my face and Shane linked his elbow in mine and lead my back to my room, Nate walking brusquely on my other side. I think he was still irked about my insensitive attitude towards his fairytale love imaginings. As I got to my door, Shane wrapped his arms tight around my shoulders and kissed my forehead gently.

"Sleep tight, Mitchie. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

He turned away and walked back in the direction of his room, while I faced Nate awkwardly, hesitantly holding out my arms. He sighed and embraced me, swaying playfully from side to side.

"See you in the morning," he smiled, squeezing my hand kindly and waiting until I'd let myself into my room before going back to his own.

I collapsed on my bed in exhaustion, falling asleep almost immediately. My dreams were filled with weird visions of damsels in distress and knights in shining armour, thanks to Nate and his stupid fairytales. I woke with a start after being lunged at by a dragon, and sat up reeling, only to be hit with a pounding headache. I groaned and clasped my forehead, squeezing my eyes tightly. Looked like Shane was right after all.

Once I was convinced that the room would not be spinning when I opened my eyes, I let them crack open and peered around cautiously. Room seemed stable. Off to a good start. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and noticed that there was something different. Something was not fitting in with the general muck of my wardrobe and computer accessories that were scattered haphazardly across the room. It took me a few seconds to place that it was the bright, colourful bouquet of roses, lilies and daisies on the hall table. I gasped and lurched over to them, breathing in their luscious aroma. I stared at the arrangement, entranced, before pulling out the tiny pink card sitting atop a particularly bright pink flower.

_Dear Mitchie, you're an amazing girl and a great friend. I just wanted to say thank you for being a part of my life. Love me._

Love me? Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful.

_**Reaction: A brand new friend, and my first hangover being drowned out by the wonderful scent of my beautiful bouquet. **_

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_That's not a knife. This is a knife. That's not a knife, that's a spoon!  
__Lol. Bleeeh not liking this weak chapter much, oh well, it had to be done. __**Review **__please&thankyous! _


	7. The Universal Dorks

_**Action: Solving the mystery of the magically appearing bouquet of flowers.**_

Shane. It had to be Shane. Don't ask me how I knew, I just did. It was like Lauren said, maybe I'd already found my Prince Charming, and now he was trying to prove it to me.

I quickly threw my hair in a ponytail and flew out of my room, dashing past various members of my band and management who warned me to start getting ready to leave because I'd slept in. I basically ignored them and kept running until I came to a screeching halt outside of Shane's ajar hotel room door. I raised my hand to knock excitedly on the door, when I heard voices coming from inside. My heart involuntarily twinged in jealousy as one was obviously female.

"It was so lame and cheesy," I could hear Shane groan.

"Calm down, I'm sure she'll love them," came the breezy Australian reply.

"You don't get it, Lauren, she's going to think I'm the world's biggest dork," he sighed, and I could mentally see him running his fingers though his dark hair.

"I think you're forgetting you're actually in the presence of the world's biggest dork," Lauren chuckled. "And Mitchie isn't that far off behind me. We're all universal dorks at the end of the day."

"But what am I supposed to say to her?" was his frustrated reply. "Oh hey, Mitchie, I heard that your bus was a bit smelly so I got you these flowers to freshen it up?"

I covered my mouth to muffle my laughter as Lauren let hers ring out. "She's going to know it's more than that from your card."

"Oh god, you're right," Shane moaned, and I heard the crinkle of couch cushions so I imagined he'd thrown himself on them exaggeratedly. "I did not think this through. What do I do now?"

"Tell her how you feel," Lauren said simply.

"But what if it doesn't work out the way we want it too?" the desperation and confusion in Shane's voice resounded in me because I knew exactly how he felt.

"Nothing in life ever does," Lauren stated matter-of-factly. "But why wouldn't you take the risk of being happy before you lose the chance, and either you or her move on to someone different?"

"I don't want to move on to someone different," Shane growled. "You don't get it, Lauren. No one lights up my world like she does."

"So _tell her_ that," I edged in the door to take a peek at Lauren throwing her hands in the air in frustration, while Shane was looking at her from the sofa with his back to me.

"I don't know how," he sighed meekly, twisting his fingers together nervously.

Lauren huffed her side fringe out of her eyes and took a step forward. "Okay, pretend I'm Mitchie."

"What?" Shane spluttered, staring at her like she was a crazy person. "No, I'm not doing that. You don't look anything like Mitchie."

"What are you talking about, pookie?" Lauren drawled in a terrible imitation of my Texan accent. "Of course I'm Mitchie!"

Shane laughed and stood up to face her. "You're an idiot."

"That's no way to address a lady," she flipped her hair and stuck out her hip in an unimpressed manner. "Didn't you have something you wanted to tell me?"

"Fine," Shane chuckled, leaning over and mock-whispering to Lauren. "But Mitchie doesn't call herself a lady, you should know that."

"Whatever," Lauren rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, continuing her charade. "Please, Shane, go on. What do you have to say to me?"

Shane folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the ground. "Well, I sent you the flowers."

"Why?" Lauren cooed sweetly, and I wrinkled my nose. I hope I didn't sound like that to everyone else when I was talking to Shane.

"I know sometimes I can- I can be a jerk, and I don't let you know how, um, special you are to me every day," Shane stammered uncertainly. "But… I think meeting you was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard!" Lauren exclaimed, her phony impersonation forgotten.

"Yeah, well, it's the truth," Shane scuffed the toe of his shoe awkwardly.

"Oh, _Shane_!" Lauren took a couple of extra steps forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You are just too cute!"

"Thanks, I think," he mumbled, just as Lauren glanced up and caught my eye as I leaned just a little bit too far around the door.

I froze in panic and guilt for a second as her gaze narrowed at catching me eavesdropping, before her expression relaxed and morphed into something a little more devious.

"And what else would you say to me, if I was Mitchie?" she pressed, looking over his shoulder at me meaningfully.

He pulled back and gave her a weird look. "Are we still going with this?"

"Just say something else," she snapped impatiently.

"Okay, okay, sheesh," he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh, Mitchie, you're great?"

Lauren groaned and flicked a look in my direction that clearly said 'bloody _boys_'. "Wow, you'll knock her dead with that one."

"Gimme a break, okay, Lauren?" Shane retorted sharply. "I can't pretend that you're her because you're not. Nobody is like her. She's her own amazing person and she makes me feel things I didn't even know I could feel until I look at her, and everything is just so right. And ever since you asked me if she was dating Nate I've been trying to imagine my life without Mitchie in it, like what if she got tired of waiting for me and fell for someone else, like Nate, for example? How I could I live with myself if I let that happen? But if I'm going to fight for her then I need to fight for _her_, not you masquerading as her, or our band bugging me to stop chickening out, or for Jason who is continuously planning our wedding. This is between the two of us. If Mitchie ultimately doesn't want to be with me, then at least I'll know that I gave it absolutely everything I had, because for me, there is no one else but her."

"Do you really mean that?" I breathed, stepping into the room, and he spun around to face me in surprise.

"Mitchie!" he squeaked, before coughing and spluttering into a more manly tone. "I mean, uh, hey there, Mitch."

"Hi," I smiled softly, leaning on the wall and waiting for him to continue.

"Were you, um, standing there the whole time?" he cringed.

"Affirmative," I raised my shoulder up and let it drop in a nonchalant shrug.

"What's that?" Lauren cupped her hand to her ear. "I think I hear Darcy calling me. Coming, Darcy!"

Giving me a smug little smile, she dashed out of the room, leaving Shane and I alone in silence.

"Yes!" he blurted out.

"Yes what?" I wrinkled my forehead in confusion.

"Yes, I meant every word."

His eyes were flitting around the room, looking at anything but me. He finally looked at me, opened his mouth, then closed it again, before staring determinedly at the TV remote like it was the fascinating thing in the world.

"Shane, look at me," I decided that taking the indifferent approach wasn't going to get us anywhere, so I walked over and stood right in from of him, so close I could smell his aftershave and blueberry pancakes, which I guessed he had probably eaten for breakfast, they were his favourite.

He did look at me, his gaze was concentrated and fierce, and he could see _me._ He knew everything there was to know about me and still thought the sun shone out of my ass, and all I could think about is how on earth did I get so lucky? I curled my toes before raising myself up on the balls of my feet and brushing my dry lips across his soft, warm ones.

I felt him smile into the kiss, slipping his hands around my waist to rest in the small of my back, pulling me in closer to him, pushing his chest against mine as I placed my hands on either side of his head, enjoying the sleek texture of his hair in between my fingers.

"You know how I feel about you, right?" he pulls away briefly to frown at me distractedly.

"Of course," I nodded, gripping his biceps tightly. "I've always known."

"Well, I was just thinking, you know, that I've never actually shown you. I think you're a really special girl and I just feel like I've been losing you," he glances down shyly and it's the first time I think I've ever seen him so vulnerable.

"You weren't. If anything, you've only found more of me," I meant it. Everything he said only made me realise nobody knew me like he did, nobody could ever understand my actions and reactions more than he could. Sure, Nate was a great guy, and I knew I'd always be friends with him. But Shane made me feel so much more than I ever knew I was capable of, something that Nate just couldn't compare to. At the end of the day, it was the easiest decision in the world.

"I love you," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine.

"I love you too," I sighed happily, kissing him again, more fervently this time.

"Hey, Shane, it's nearly call time and Darcy can't find Mit-OHMYGOSH, I KNEW IT!" came a loud squeal from behind us.

"Shut up, Jason!" another voice reprimanded him as I spun round to see Jason's shining eyes and wide, goofy grin, Nate rolling his eyes behind him.

"Yay, yay, yay!" Jason jumped and down, clapping his hands. "I hate to say I told you so, Shane, but I totally told you so!"

"Will you shut it?" Shane's words were meant to be harsh, but his face was too bright for them to have any impact, so he winked at me as he threw his arm around my shoulder.

"Way to go, man," Nate smiled warmly at him, and exchanged a resigned glance with me, like he knew that this was inevitable anyway. "So you finally got the guts, huh?"

"Yeah," Shane grinned. "You're going to have to go and collect your ten bucks off The Hammer."

"Wait, what?" I shrugged Shane's arm off my shoulders and look up at him indignantly. "You let them bet on how long it would take for you to kiss me?"

"I _observed_ them betting on how long it would take me to kiss you," Shane pressed his lips to my forehead boldly. "Nate bet it would be before the end of the tour. The Hammer thought it would take me another ten years."

"I had more faith in him," Nate chuckled, punching his shoulder lightly. "I knew he'd grow some balls eventually."

"Thank god it didn't take him ten years!" I exclaimed. "You should have just bet him 50 and then come and talked to me! We could have split the profits!"

"Nah, it was better that he did it his own way," Nate squeezed Shane's shoulder supportively, and his genuine sincerity made me feel so lucky to have such good friends.

Speaking of good friends, Jason was still jabbering on to himself in the doorway. "And you have to choose between either chocolate or vanilla, and how many cake tiers you want, and what kind of little bride and groom people you want on the top…"

"Mitchie! There you are!" Darcy exclaimed from out in the hall. "For frick's sake, girl! I have been going abso-frickin-lutely insane looking for you! Where the frick have you been?"

Just when you thought you could walk all over her, Darcy proved why she was hired in the first place. She was damn good at her job.

"Frick on a stick!" she cried, looking at her watch. "Never mind, we don't have time to explain! You need to check the frick out in ten minutes!"

"Crap!" I yelped, pulling away from Shane to meet her in the corridor. "Sorry, I was kissing Shane."

"You were what?" Darcy stopped short and stared at me.

"Kissing. Shane. In there?" I pointed towards Shane looking sheepish, while Nate and Jason laughed.

Darcy stared blankly at me before a few more seconds, before she cracked a wide smile. "Awesome. The Hammer owes me twenty bucks."

_**Reaction: Finding… well, not exactly my Prince Charming. But close enough. **_

* * *

Nate. It had to be Nate. Don't ask me how I knew, I just did. He hated disagreements, so being his naturally competitive self, he was trying to prove to me that a Prince Charming did exist.

I quickly threw my hair in a ponytail and flew out of my room, dashing past various members of my band and management who warned me to start getting ready to leave because I'd slept in. I basically ignored them and kept running until I came to a screeching halt outside of Nate's hotel room door. Making a fruitless effort to look a little bit more reasonable, I smoothed down my hair and straightened my wrinkled t-shirt before rapping on the door excitedly.

"Hmph?" Nate opened his door with half a breakfast muffin shoved in his mouth, which he nearly choked on as I hugged him tightly around the waist.

"Thank you!" I gushed into his chest.

"You're welcome?" he managed to form through the half-masticated muffin.

"They're so pretty!" I smiled, pulling away and beaming up at him.

"What are?" he drew his eyebrows together in confusion.

"You didn't send them?" my delighted expression faltered.

"Send what?" he swallowed and looked at me incredulously. "Did you wake up still drunk or something?"

"No!" I pouted, folding my arms across my chest. "The flowers in my room. They weren't from you?"

"Nooo," he drawled, raising an eyebrow that asked the question why on Earth I thought that.

I frowned and bit my lip. Well if it wasn't Nate, then it had to be…

"Shane," I breathed, a new wave of excitement rushing through me.

I turned and ran down to the opposite end of the building, leaving Nate yelling behind me "You know we leave soon, right? Mitchie!"

I slowed down to a jog as I approached Shane's room, but I noticed his door was half open and I glanced in uncertainly as I heard voices coming from inside. My heart involuntarily twinged in jealousy as one was obviously female.

"But… I think meeting you was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I put my hand to my mouth to hold in the gasp that rose in my throat. It sounded like some sort of feelings confession, like Shane had feelings for someone. Who wasn't me.

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard!" a light Australian voice exclaimed, and my stomach lurched.

What the hell was Lauren doing in there? Please, please don't tell me Shane likes Lauren. No. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Shane meeting me at Camp Rock was supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to him. What the fuck about _me_? I could feel my cheeks burning in fury and so stuck my head around the door to see visual evidence of their exchange.

"Yeah, well, it's the truth," Shane scuffed the toe of his shoe awkwardly as Lauren smiled dumbly at him. Dumb bitch. Who the hell did she think she was? Just waltzing in here, in the middle of a tour, pretending to be my friend, milking more for information about Connect Three and then totally disregarding my feelings by seducing Shane.

"Oh, _Shane_!" Lauren took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You are just too cute!"

"Thanks, I think," he mumbled, just as Lauren glanced up and caught my eye as I lost my balance and tripped into the room. The commotion made Shane break away from her and turn to face me. His eyes lit up for a moment before he saw the livid expression on my face.

"Mitchie…"

"Fuck you," I snapped, brushing my straggly hair out of my watering eyes. "I thought you liked me, I thought you really liked me! You're such an asshole!"

"What?" his face crumples in confusion and hurt.

"Mitchie, this isn't want you think," Lauren steps forward in his defence, but she shrinks back slightly as I send her a withering glare.

"Don't even get me started on you," I hissed. "You know how I feel about him. How could you do this to me?"

"I didn't do anything!" Lauren protests, and I let out a bark of cynical laughter.

"Yeah, like I believe that," I scoffed, looking back at Shane. "Have fun with the best thing that's ever happened to you. I hope you're very happy together."

Wiping away the hot tears that were stinging my eyelids, I turned on my heel and sprinted out of Shane's room as fast as I could, pushing past concerned voices and hands of comfort. I didn't want anybody's pity. I didn't even want to pity myself. My rage and disappointment had taken over all of my senses, but I couldn't suppress the sickening feeling of hypocrisy bubbling at the pit of my stomach. Why did I care? It wasn't as if I was so different to Shane. I'd developed feelings for someone else on this tour too. But at least I'd had the god damn decency to keep them under wraps to prevent myself from hurting anyone. It was a good thing, too. If this was what it felt like to know that you're not wanted by someone you thought always would, then I wouldn't have wished it on anyone. It was the worst feeling in the world.

"Mitchie? Mitchie, what's wrong?"

I felt my throat close up as I spun around to come face to face with worried brown eyes and a warm hand grab hold of my own. "Nate…"

_**Reaction: Betrayal, anger and something that felt suspiciously like heartbreak. But maybe there was somebody else who could pick up the pieces…**_

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_Asdfghjkl;! I love you guys. Seriously. I was expecting a couple of messages being all like STFU YOU WHINGER. I forgot that most people have exams etc. before your summer starts. Sorry for freaking out on you. I'll defs try to finish it. I don't think I could live with myself sending out a bunch of messages going "Mitchie chooses…" Anyhoo, same old, same old, I would really, really appreciate some feedback in the form of a __**review**__ if you're not too busy :) Next chapter is the last chapter ahhh!_


	8. The Action Reaction

_****_

Action: Flinging myself into the comforting arms of Nate.

My eyes filled with tears and I threw myself at Nate, wrapping my arms around his waist and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Whoh," he grunted as the wind was knocked out of his body, but he patted my back comfortingly as he led me over to the sofa in his room, sitting me down, still cradling in his arms. "What happened?"

"Shane," was all I managed to choke out, and I felt him tense next to me.

"What did he do?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"He was with…" I pulled away and rubbed my knuckles across the tears making my cheeks gross and sticky. "He was with Lauren."

"Huh?" Nate's arms dropped from my side and he looked at me incredulously. "Doing what?"

"I don't even want to know," I snapped, turning my head away from him and glaring daggers into the carpet at my feet.

"Are you sure?" the way he was acting like I was making this up was getting on my nerves.

"Look, I know what I saw," I scowled. "Shane said meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to him."

"What about you?" Nate stated blankly.

"You're damn right, what about me!" I exclaimed angrily. "But you know what? I don't even care! I don't!"

"Mitchie, you're crying your eyes out," Nate sighed, cupping my face in his hands and wiping at my tearstains with his thumbs. "I think you care a little."

"I don't," I insisted, covering his hands in mine and squeezing them tightly. "I really don't, you know why?"

"Why?" he breathed out, looking at my fingers that had entangled themselves with his own.

"Because I met someone else who was the best thing that ever happened to me."

And without waiting for him to say anything else, I quickly closed the space between our faces and collided into his lips. He grabbed the back of my head and tilted it back to get a better angle, his tongue mingling with my own, and I could tell that he'd just cleaned his teeth because the minty taste of toothpaste filled my mouth. I grabbed the front of his shirt feverishly, pushing him back so I could hover over him and take control. I bit down on his bottom lip and his back arched into me, and I could feel him pressing against my thigh. I smiled to myself. At least I had one person who wanted me.

"What the _fuck_?" an outraged voice exclaimed in disbelief from the hall entry.

Nate gasped and sat up, pushing me off him as he got to his feet guiltily. I snapped my head around to see Shane storming towards him, and before I'd even had time to register what was going on Shane had drawn back his fist and punched Nate square in the jaw, sending him in a spastic half-pirouette that brought him to his knees.

"What are you doing, you lunatic?!" I screeched, jumping up and went to crouch next to Nate, but Shane had already picked him up by the front of his shirt, the very same place where I had been clinging to moments earlier, and decked him again.

"Stop it!" I cried, a fresh batch of tears making their way over my eyelids as I grabbed Shane's leather jacket and yanked him away from his writhing friend on the ground, standing between them as Shane still tried to get at Nate, who was holding his bleeding nose and rocking back on his haunches, moaning in pain.

"You knew how I feel about her!" Shane screamed, flecks of spit flying from his mouth as I blocked his path, but was virtually being ignored. "You _knew_! You're meant to be my best friend!"

"Shane, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Nate whimpered nasally, still clutching his nose.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed, looking incredulously between the two of them. "What do you mean you didn't mean to? And what do _you_ mean about feeling for me?"

"I love you, okay, Mitchie, I fucking love you! Are you happy now?" Shane roared at me, before silence fell over the room and all I could hear was his heavy breathing and Nate's sniffling.

"What?" I squeaked in a very small voice. "But, Lauren…"

"Is a crazy Australian girl who insisted on role-playing the story of my epic confession," Shane's anger faded into something that resembled lonely detachment. "If you had let me explain, you'd know that I was talking about _you_, Mitchie."

I stood staring at him for I don't know how long. He loved me. He loved me but I got angry and made-out with his best friend who I had a semi-crush on to get back at him. I couldn't believe what I had done, I never thought I would ever be that irrational or arrogant, and I had never experienced so much self-loathing in my life then I did at that moment.

"Shane," I whispered shakily, reaching out towards him.

"Don't touch me," he croaked, taking a swift step backwards, looking down at Nate traitorously. "You should probably get your new boyfriend some ice."

"No, Shane, it's not like that," I snivelled, trying to follow him, but he'd turned an walked out of the room too fast and I was left clutching at air.

"Mitchie," Nate called from behind me, making me jump.

"I'm sorry!" I sobbed, squatting down next to him and brushing back the hair from his face to inspect the damage Shane had inflicted. "I didn't know, I thought he was… I'm so sorry!"

"You should be," he winced. "Why the hell did you kiss me?"

"I don't seem to recall you objecting," I narrowed my eyes as my tears subsided in protest.

"Of course I didn't, you're fucking gorgeous, Mitchie!" Nate groaned. "But you're Shane's. You were always Shane's and I wasn't supposed to touch you."

"Did he tell you that?" I stood up quickly, pulling Nate up with me as he swayed precariously from side to side. "Because, you know, he never said anything about exclusiveness-"

"He didn't have to say anything, Mitchie," Nate scowled, sitting back down on the couch. "He didn't need words. I told that to myself so I wouldn't do anything to hurt him."

"Oh," I replied quietly, perching next to him and nibbling my lip anxiously. I glanced sideways to see him wiping his bleeding nose on his sleeve, and I sighed. "Do you want me to get you some ice? Some tissues, maybe?"

"Actually, I would rather you go and get Darcy and tell her I need some help" he glared in my direction and I wasn't sure what I did to get this sort of reaction from him. "I don't think you should be around me at the moment."

"Okay," I got up dejectedly and moved towards the door, looking back over my shoulder before I left. "Then when can I start being around you again?"

He slumped back on the cushions and shook his head. "I don't know, Mitch. When you decide what you want. Now, please leave."

I nodded and ignored the lump building in my throat as I went and told Darcy what had happened between Nate and Shane, without going into to too much detail. Her hand flew to her mouth and she murmured something about throwing up in her mouth a little bit, before whipping out her phone and gabbling some promotional lingo into it. I backed away slowly and went to find the one person who would help me clear my head and sort out this mess I'd gotten myself into.

"What?" Lauren looked down her nose at me as she lugged her suitcase into the hall.

"Did you, um, hear about… what happened?" I gulped, already guessing the answer.

"I sure did," she exclaimed in a false cheerful voice. "I really hope you liked your flowers."

"Lauren, please, I need your help," I begged, clasping my hands together and staring at her earnestly.

"I can't help you with this, Mitchie," she rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her long, champagne coloured hair. "You've made your bed and now you have to lie in it."

"No!" I yelled. "No, I can fix this! I know I can! But I can't do it by myself."

"You're going to have to," she sighed, detangling a thick knot in her tresses. "Look, you made a choice, you can't go back. Now you have to deal with the consequences."

"I don't want to!" I stamped my foot and internally cursed the wretched tears that were filling my eyes _again_. "I can't deal with this right now!"

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" she raised her eyebrows and went to pick up her suitcase, when Jason came around the corner and stopped her.

"Don't worry, Lauren, I'll get it," he smiled warmly, but his lively features faltered when he saw me.

"You should really be getting ready to leave," he stated neutrally, giving me a small nod. "We depart in ten."

"Shit," I swore under my breath, my head reeling at all that had happened in such a short amount of time.

"Shoot, I forgot my hair straightener," Lauren frowned, dashing back inside, leaving Jason and I alone in silence.

"Are you mad at me?" I whispered, hanging my head and avoiding his stare.

"A little."

"What about Nate? Are you mad at him?" I bit my lip. I felt so guilty about possibly losing Nate one of his best friends, I had to make sure the other one didn't hate him too.

"I'm not mad at him, just disappointed," Jason said simply. "He shouldn't have done it. You're Shane's."

"I am not an object!" I cried, my head jerking up. "I don't belong to anyone except myself!"

"It's not that easy," Jason shook his head sadly. "You can't decide who falls in love with you and who doesn't. You belong to the people who love you the most. You're definitely Shane's."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Lauren emerged from her room, and with her hair straightener in hand, she gave me a slight nod before setting off down the hall, Jason following in her wake. All I could do was stand there blankly and try to comprehend how I could single-handedly fuck up my life so badly.

_**Reaction: Losing all of my best friends over a stupid split-second decision.**_

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My eyes filled with tears and I threw myself at Nate, wrapping my arms around his waist and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Whoh," he grunted as the wind was knocked out of his body, but he patted my back comfortingly as he led me over to the sofa in his room, sitting me down, still cradling in his arms. "What happened?"

"Shane," was all I managed to choke out, and I felt him tense next to me.

"What did he do?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"He was with…" I pulled away and rubbed my knuckles across the tears making my cheeks gross and sticky. "He was with Lauren."

"Huh?" Nate's arms dropped from my side and he looked at me incredulously. "Doing what?"

"I don't know!" I spluttered. "But he told her she was the best thing that ever happened to him! What about me? Do I mean nothing? Am I that worthless?"

"No, Mitchie, no," Nate sighed softly, tucking a few stray hair strands behind my ear. "You're not worthless. Not even close."

"Then why do I feel like this? I don't want to care, but I can't help it!" I buried my face in my hands. "I cared too much, and now he doesn't want me. I'm such an idiot."

"Shh, don't say that," Nate's words were just as soothing as the sympathetic circles he was rubbing on my back.

"I am, God, Lauren is so pretty and talented, and I'm just _me_, no wonder Shane chose her," I spat.

"Mitchie, listen to me," Nate tucked his finger under my chin and tried to force me to look up, but I resisted and kept my watery vision on the chipped blue varnish on my toenails.

He sighed, and his warm breath on my skin made tingles shoot down my spine. "Just_ you_ is a funny, gifted, strong young woman who I am proud to call my friend. And Mitchie, trust me when I say this, but you are beautiful. Shane doesn't know what he's missing."

My gaze shot up and my eyes locked with his, and it was like the air around us was crackling as each of us waiting for the other to make the first move. Suddenly, his hand dropped away from my face and came to rest lightly on my knee. That was all I needed. I leaned in, my eyes fluttering closed. I could feel his shallow panting on my face as I held my breath and waited for him to press his lips to mine.

Suddenly, the air around me was cold and I opened my eyes to find that he had moved to an awkward position at the other end of the couch, looking at me sadly.

"We can't."

I sighed through my nose in frustration. I knew exactly what he meant, why he pulled away. But that didn't mean I was happy about it.

"Shane doesn't like her at all, I know it," he sighed, propping his chin up with his elbow and looking at me though his eyelashes. "You don't know how much you mean to him."

"This isn't about Shane, this is about you and me. Do _you_ like me?"

"Mitchie…"

"Don't 'Mitchie' me! Answer the question!" I was suddenly angry at his rejection. I'd put myself out there and he just shot me down.

"Yes! I do! I like you, Mitchie, okay? But If Shane ever…"

"Screw Shane!" I ignored the pang of guilt that flashed though my stomach. "He'd get over it!"

"Bull shit, he would! You know as well as I do that Shane would hold it against us for a long time! I'm not willing to lose his friendship over this!"

"Over me, you mean," I muttered insolently, holding back tears. "What about my friendship?"

"Is that it, then?" Nate scowled. "You're giving me an ultimatum?"

"No!' I gasped. "Nate, I would never…"

"Because Shane would win out every time, Mitchie. Every time."

That stung.

"You don't have to choose between us," I whispered.

"Yes, Mitchie, I do," Nate sighed condescendingly. "You know that if I kiss you right now, I can't be friends with Shane anymore. He'd never forgive me."

"You know what I think?" I glared at him accusingly. "I think you're a goddamn liar. You don't believe I'm all those things you said I was. If you did you'd want to be with me."

"Mitchie," he sighed, more delicately then the last. "I like you, I really do. But not enough. Not as much as Shane does. And I wish things could be different, but they're not. Shane is my best friend, and I'm pretty sure he's in love with you. And I know you feel the same way about him. And you may think you like me…"

"I do like you!" I retorted.

"But you love Shane. You like me because I'm not what's hurting you right now. You like me because I'm an alternative. And that's okay. But if we do this, you and me, right now, your relationship, friendship, whatever have you have with Shane will never be the same again, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

I opened my mouth to disagree, to tell him that he's wrong, wrong, wrong, but I can't find the words because there are none. He's absolutely right. He smiled as he saw the defeat in my eyes, and reached out to wrap his arms around my shoulders and kiss my forehead.

"Mitchie?" there was a timid knock at the door and Nate pushed me away a little bit too quickly and got to his feet a little guiltily.

"Hey Shane," he nodded at the anxious boy in the doorway. "If you could not screw it up this time and save me having another clean shirt cried into, it would be really appreciated, dude."

Nate's humour was lost on Shane, who only sent him a bemused glance before going back to staring at me on the sofa with my knees pulled into my chest.

"So, I'll uh, just go and see if Jason has packed up all of his shoes, you know what he's like, leaving a right one in Arizona and a left one in Tennessee," Nate said mostly for his own benefit, before dashing out of the room.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" I raised my eyebrows at him challengingly.

"Lauren had this, like, stupid ass role play idea so I could practice saying what I really wanted to say to you," Shane sighed, edging into the room and standing a few feet in front of me.

"Me?" I squeaked in a small voice.

"Yes," he groaned, running and hand through his thick hair nervously. "I've been trying to find the words to talk to tell you even since Lauren asked me about you and Nate yesterday. I knew I had no right to, but I felt so damn jealous. I tried to ask you out to dinner last night, but you were being all buddy-buddy-tour-sister-love with Lauren and I chickened out. So I sent you those stupid flowers instead and…"

"So you did send them," I grinned, sitting up a little straighter.

"Yes, and then I completely screwed everything up when I tried to get Lauren to help me. I swear, that's the last time I ever ask a girl who's never been in a healthy, stable relationship to ever assist me on that exact subject matter," he rolled his eyes and I giggled, getting to my feet.

"It's so good to hear you laugh," he relaxed slowly, taking a tentative step towards me. "And so I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't know what this thing is that we've got going on, but I want to make it into something real. I promise I'm not going to bail on you if I get scared. I'm never going leave you hanging while I make up my mind. And I'd make sure that you'd know every single day that no one could ever love you as much as I do."

Throughout his speech, we'd been edging closer and closer together, and as the last word slipped out of his mouth our faces were barely centimetres apart. He was staring at me with those warm brown eyes that I'd gotten lost in so many times as he could see _me._ He knew everything there was to know about me and still thought the sun shone out of my ass, and all I could think about is how on earth did I get so lucky? I curled my toes before raising myself up on the balls of my feet and brushing my dry lips across his soft, warm ones.

I felt him smile into the kiss, slipping his hands around my waist to rest in the small of my back, pulling me in closer to him, pushing his chest against mine as I placed my hands on either side of his head, enjoying the sleek texture of his hair in between my fingers.

I pulled away from a brief second so I could tell him "I love you too."

I meant it. Everything he said only made me realise nobody knew me like he did, nobody could ever understand my actions and reactions more than he could. Sure, Nate was a great guy, and I knew I'd always be friends with him. But Shane made me feel so much more than I ever knew I was capable of, something that Nate just couldn't compare to. At the end of the day, it was the easiest decision in the world.

"Hey, Shane, it's nearly call time and Darcy can't find Mit-OHMYGOSH, I KNEW IT!" came a loud squeal from behind us.

"Jesus Christ, Jason, I told ou not to go in there!" Nate's voice reprimanded him as I spun round to see Jason's shining eyes and wide, goofy grin.

"Yay, yay, yay!" Jason jumped and down, clapping his hands. "I hate to say I told you so, Shane, but I totally told you so!"

"I know, man," Shane grinned, pulling me closer and once again attaching his lips to mine possessively.

"Stop making out! We have to get ready to leave in ten minutes!" Jason exclaimed, chucking a throw pillow in our direction and sauntering out of the room, babbling on about booking a church.

Nate winked at both of us, before following his lead, and I reluctantly withdrew myself from Shane and insisted that I was nowhere near packed and ready to set off for the next tour stop. Pressing a final kiss to his lips, I sprinted out of the room to catch up with the slouching, curly haired boy with his hands shoved in his pockets. I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, quickly giving him an enthusiastic hug.

"Thank you," I whispered into the curve of his neck.

"You were always meant to be with Shane," he whispered back, ruffling the hair that lay across my ear. "I was just… a detour."

"Well, I'm glad I took the long way round," I smiled, pulling away and squeezing his shoulder. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll live," he threw the back of his hand again his forehead dramatically while I laughed. "I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," I insisted, before faltering with a question I'd always wanted an answer to. "I just don't know for how long. What if I screw it up? What do I do? How do I stay happy forever?"

"Mitchie, calm down," Nate pushes my bangs out of my eyes and stares into them sincerely. "You're going to be fine."

"What if fine isn't good enough?" I gasped, feeling light-headed. "I'm so scared, Nate.

Nate nodded understandingly. "Mitchie, look. You know how everyone always tells you that life is nothing like the movies? How nothing ever turns out like you expect it to?"

I nodded meekly.

"That's bull shit," he stated bluntly. "A lot of the time, people do get their fairytale ending. They fall in love and get married and stay together forever, defying divorce statistics and low expectations. Mitchie, I wish you weren't such a cynic, so you could know what it feels like to lose yourself completely in another person. I want you to believe that true love exists and that it's eternal and transcending. I want you to experience that, and the person to do that with is my best friend, okay?"

"Okay," I breathed, his words crashing over me like a tidal wave.

"Now go get dressed," he laughed, looking down at my dowdy pyjamas. "We have another city to rock tonight!"

"Yeah!" I exclaimed, exchanging a high five with him before flying off to my room to get all my stuff loaded onto the tour bus in time to leave on schedule.

Shane and I were announced as a public couple a few months later, amidst headlines of 'About time!' and 'We knew it'. The media scrutiny was a little intense sometimes, but Shane would hold my hand and kiss my head and tell me that everything was going to be alright. And it was. We were happy. But sometimes I would look and Nate and get a flash of what might have been, what maybe I could have experienced if I had been with him. In that moment where I could have done something, but never did, and I will never get the chance to again. I could have changed my entire life in that instant.

But I couldn't dwell that. I made my defining life choices. I followed this path. This was the reaction to my actions. And I wouldn't have had it any other way.

_**Reaction: Having absolutely no regrets, only a simple wonder of what could have been. Turns out that Isaac Newton guy really knew what he was talking about. **_

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_Donedonedone :) Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favourited and alerted. Your support means the world. _

_I know, I know, Nate and Mitchie didn't end up together, but my story wasn't really about that. It was more how the choices we make can lead to different destinations, but maybe we'll end up in the same place we're meant to be anyway._

_But the possibility of a sequel is a no go! There's a reason I'm mostly a one-shot writer! Most of my ideas go for about 3,000 words and then I flesh them out until I'm happy with them. So obviously chapter stories drive me absolutely insane, especially when I'm stumped for ideas. So yes, sorry, but this is where this story ends. Thanks for reading! :)_


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